Divine Fire
by Lustrian
Summary: The murder of a prominent business mogul on Illium, as well as a prison break on Mars, leads a Turian CID officer to a terrorist threat that could destabilize the entire galaxy.
1. Chapter 1: No Surprise

_**Author's Note: **Set just before and during the events of ME2. It is also set in Myetel's Spirit of Redemption universe. So done, with permission, because her continuity is cannon as far as I'm concerned. Also, no one does it better than her!_

_12 hours before Lilitu Shepard's Resurrection..._

**Omega**

It was said that, for the right price, anything could be found in the markets and back alleys of Omega. Want an illegal weapon mod? No problem. Just head down the right dark corridor and you could find a veritable cornucopia of weaponry. Need a fix to feed an addiction? Easiest thing in the galaxy. Just drop a word or two, and within a few minutes, dozens of dealers and pushers would be ready to supply you with whatever your particular brand of chemical escape might be. Need somebody killed? Check in with one or two contact agents in darkened bars and you would find a wide array of killers and dozens of methods of execution. All you need is enough credits, the right contacts, and a little patience. It was the same thing if you wanted to seal off one of Omega's many docking bays and hold it for your own purposes. You would just have to expect to pay a very hefty sum on an hourly rate.

It was a fact that Lukat, captain of the raider ship _Crimson Dawn_ was reminded of every time he checked the current time on his omnitool. Sitting in the pilot's seat in the ship's cockpit, his anger had been rising steadily, and was now approaching critical mass. The batarian had been told that this part of the arrangement with the financiers of this operation was non-negotiable. His own commander had been quite clear on that, and Lukat knew better than to question any orders that came down from on high. The part that he hadn't been told was that the payment for holding this docking bay and closing it off from any outside traffic was coming out of his own personal funds. His ship had been waiting for over four hours, and all he could think about was the money that was being thrown away every time another hour went by. Not only that, but all the criminal gangs on Omega were currently shitting themselves because of some vigilante group that had been tearing their way across the station. _That would be the perfect end to a perfect day to have that Archangel bastard burst in and blow my fucking brains out._

Lukat rubbed the base of his flat nose, his four eyes squinting shut as his omnitool let out a soft chime, indicating that another hour had ticked by. Cursing to himself, he mentally subtracted another hourly rate out of his current cred account. This job had barely begun, and already he was in the hole for nearly five thousand credits. Technically, the _Crimson Dawn_ was part of the larger force under his current Raid Commander's group, but he was still responsible for supplying the ship and his troops during operations. Already, he was having doubts about the current assignment. It seemed like the big one; the mission that would not only set them up for life, but cement their place in the annals of the greatest heroes of the batarian people. Hell, the initial raid had gone perfectly. The intelligence and security codes that the mission's unknown backers had been spot-on. The package was secure, and the escape was clean. Everything had gone according to plan.

_So why am I sitting here watching money leak out of my pocket like piss in the wind? _The question was the same as many others that had passed through his mind since the start of the mission, all with the same answer. _Following the Commander's Orders._ Lukat sighed as he switched his omnitool on, checking for any messages from either his Commander or their overdue contacts. Just as he found out that, yet again, there was no word from either party, the cockpit door opened behind him with a mechanical hum. He closed his eyes again, mentally bracing himself.

_Fuck's sake, don't be the kid._

"_Has there been any word yet?"_

Lukat felt his fists clenching as the unmistakable voice of Emar'ak, the newest member of the crew, spoke up from behind. His voice was higher pitched than the rest of the crew, almost shrill. It made him sound like an impatient child whining when he didn't get his way. In a manner of speaking, that's what he was. Lukat had been told that Emar'ak was the son of some high caste slave lord back on Khar'shan. Apparently, his father wanted him to learn the trade of a slaver and raider, and hoped that spending time with an actual raider fleet would accomplish that. Thus far, he had proved completely mediocre at everything he was told to do, and spent most of his time berating the crew on the fact that he came from superior batarian stock. Lukat would have liked nothing more than to shove him into the nearest airlock after gouging out all four of his eyes, leaving his worthless soul trapped for eternity. But, his Commander had told him to show deference to the brat. So, for the time being, Emar'ak was his problem.

"_No, there hasn't been any word," _Lukat growled, not deigning to actually look at the unwanted guest. "_No more word than the last five times you asked. They'll be here when they get here. "_

Emar'ak stepped forward and plopped down into the copilot's seat. If it had been anyone else that did that, Lukat would have shot them in the head. This was his ship, and no one entered the cockpit without permission, much less deciding to make themselves at home. At the moment, all he could do was bite his tongue and let it go.

Emar'ak fixed his gaze on Lukat, impatience locked onto his face. "_This is ridiculous. We carry out our part of the bargain, and they can't even be bothered to show up? Time is money!"_

_My money, you spoiled piece of shit. _Lukat tried to push the annoyance out of his mind. _"Did you come up here for a reason?"_

_Emar'ak_ grunted. _"Our guest is starting to complain about his accommodations."_

"_You came up here to tell me that? What did you expect me to do, pull a five-star Citadel hotel room right out of my ass?" _His exasperation finally boiled over. "_Take your worthless sack of flesh down there and tell him to SHUT THE FUCK UP!" _Lukat took a moment to catch his breath. _"Do you think you can muster up whatever capacity for independent thought you have left to do that?"_

Emar'ak actually looked shocked to have been yelled at by someone who was technically part of a lower caste than himself. He regained his indignant composure and bore a baleful stare into Lukat's face. _"Don't you ever speak to me like that again. In case you might have forgotten, my father is a close personal friend of your Commander. Do I need to remind you that my father could bury you and your entire organization with one communication? Never forget that I..."_

Emar'ak stopped his rant abruptly as he found himself staring down the barrel of Lukat's Stiletto pistol. The pistol stayed pointed right at his face for the space of several seconds, until Lukat used the pistol to move Emar'ak's head so their gazes were leveled at each other. Lukat's face twisted into a smile.

"_No, my boy, I have not forgotten who your father is. Nor have I forgotten why he had my Commander bring you aboard my ship. Your father earned his power and reputation, and hopes that you will do the same with us. So, as your Captain and teacher, allow me instruct you to the first lesson of this profession." _He pressed the barrel against Emar'ak's forehead. _"When you are aboard a raider ship, the Captain is in charge. I don't care if your father gets his ass wiped by the Dukes of the Hegemony. When you are aboard this ship, you are under MY command. When I give you an order, you obey it. Without question, without thought. If I tell you to clean my personal bathroom with your tongue, you had better pray that your tongue is up to the task. Of course, if you think that is unfair, you can always challenge me for command. But if you decide on that course of action, then allow me to instruct you on the second lesson. If you challenge me, I will gut, bone, and flay you alive as an example to the others. As Captain, sometimes you have to remind the crew of the status quo. And the best way to do that is by dismembering little annoyances like yourself." _The pistol finally lowered. _"Am I in any way unclear?"_

Surprisingly, Emar'ak didn't show even a hint of fear. Instead, he looked bored. Like he had just endured a lecture from a parent that he had mostly ignored. When it was over, he stood up with a grunt of indignation, leaving the cockpit while muttering under his breath. Lukat could just make out the words _"Damned waste of my time."_ As soon as he heard the door to the cockpit close, Lukat holstered the pistol and laughed. _Maybe the boy's got some balls, after all. No fucking sense, but balls. Now, if he could only keep his mouth shut..._

"_Crimson Dawn, this is the Cruentus. We are on station and awaiting the all clear. Over."_

The sudden burst transmission from the comm console snapped Lukat out of his thoughts. _About damned time. _He flipped a switch, turning on his ship's encrypted channel. _"This is the Crimson Dawn. Docking Bay 12 is secured. All traffic cleared. Commence docking maneuvers. Use access code DR3116-A to open kinetic barriers. Over."_

"_Copy that. Proceeding to Bay 12. ETA is four minutes. Out."_

There was no mistaking the voice on the other end of the communication as turian. The inflection of the voice was impossible to miss. And since the turian on the other side of the comm knew the name of his ship, Lukat knew this was the real thing. He turned off the comm and switched to the ship's PA.

"_Off your asses you lazy shits! The other half of this operation is here! Get our guest ready to move. You've got three minutes, people! Anyone who isn't out and ready by then loses half their pay!"_

Even from the cockpit, Lukat could hear the frenzy of activity that suddenly exploded throughout the ship. He loved using the threat of lost pay. You could only threaten someone with bodily harm so many times before they began to doubt your will to actually do anything. But threaten their bottom line? Worked every time.

Still at his seat, Lukat watched the _Cruentus _approach the docking bay. The ship was small, barely bigger than a Corvette. It looked used too. There were a lot of hull patches that didn't quite match the original hull. But what the ship lacked in grace and polish it made up for in weaponry. The weapons systems were absolutely top of the line. The ship seemed to have four disruptor torpedo launchers installed, overkill on a ship of that size by any standards. But the thing that stood out most to Lukat was the insignia painted on the hull just under the cockpit superstructure. Visible only after the _Cruentus _locked itself down by the docking clamps, was a stylized bloody turian hand print. It didn't match any criminal or mercenary organization that Lukat had ever seen. He pushed the thought away. _Forget it. Get to business. Worry about the pointless shit later._

Minutes later, Lukat and half of his twenty-man crew stood at the bottom of the _Crimson Dawn's_ docking ramp, waiting for the crew of the _Cruentus_ to meet them. In truth, Lukat was impatient to find out just who it was they were working with. The Commander had been very tight-lipped about the newcomers. He only said that they were to be treated as equals while on the mission, and that no undue questions be asked. Short and sweet, the way Lukat liked it.

Finally, the docking ramp of the _Cruentus _opened, revealing two turian figures. Lukat had to mentally force himself from reacting noticeably to them. They were male and female, that much was certain. Both wore identical blue facepaint that Lukat was not familiar with. The paint was cobalt blue, and the markings seemed to be tracing the image of a turian skull on their faces. The male was wearing a light tactical style armor, every inch of which was painted turian blood blue. The female was something else. First of all, she was pregnant. Very pregnant. The sizable bulge in her belly indicated that she had to have been at least ten months along. Because of that, she wasn't wearing armor. But what she was wearing definitely stood out. She wore tight leather leggings that seemed to be made out of stitched animal hide. And that was about it. The claws on her bare feet clicked against the metal of the docking ramp, and her torso was adorned only with some kind of tactical harness. Lukat might have laughed, but the eyes of the two turians made the laugh die in his throat. The male hid it better than the female, but the feral look was obvious in both of them. This went way beyond the normal predatory look most turians had. This bordered on animalistic. _Best to leave the dick-waving out of this. Keep it strictly to business._ The veteran raiders in Lukat's crew seemed to pick up on this as well. Emar'ak, unfortunately, was not a veteran.

"_Where did you drag her out from, some shit-farm from the colonies?"_

_You did NOT just fucking say that._ Lukat found his hand reaching for his pistol. This was business, and you did NOT conduct business like that. Commander's orders or not, he really thought that he might actually shoot him this time. He was about to pull the pistol out of its holster when he saw the female turian whisper something to the male. He then nodded and turned his gaze to Lukat.

"_You are in command of this ship?"_

Lukat nodded. _"I am."_

"_My mate has just informed me that your little pet pyjak is starting to make her ears itch. She thinks it wise that you slap on a muzzle before she tears out his tongue."_

Lukat was about to reply when, astoundingly, Emar'ak decided not to take the hint. _"Didn't quite catch that. Bit of a sore throat, baby? Pleasure your boy here a bit too much? I bet I could make him seem like a weak massage in comparison." _Emar'ak was actually leering at her. _Trying to show his dominance. Fucking child._

The male seemed completely unperturbed. "_She pleasures me in ways you have only read about. She simply finds the act of speaking your language to be akin to eating __s'kak." _The female whispered something else, which made the male smile. _"She also assures me that she wouldn't fuck you with a stolen phallus." _

Lukat finally had enough. _"Utter another syllable and I will gut you and strangle you with your own intestines." _Before Emar'ak could respond to the rebuke, Lukat decided to get on with the business at hand. Switching to galactic, he said "I am Lukat, captain of the _Crimson Dawn. _My commander didn't inform us as to the identities of our contacts. I assume since you know who we are, that you are the other half of this operation?"

The male turian nodded, also switching to galactic. "Yes, an unfortunate reality for us. We must travel in absolute secrecy. There isn't a single turian in the whole of the Hierarchy who wouldn't kill us on sight if they knew who we were. I am Zoxiel. She is Kharai. That is all you need to know about us." He placed his hands behind his back. "Now, was the package secured?"

Lukat grinned. "Indeed it was. I don't know how you managed to get that kind of intelligence out of the Sol system, but everything worked like a charm." He turned and called to his men still inside the ship. "Bring him down!"

Two of the batarians in Lukat's crew came down the cargo ramp, escorting a human male in shackles. He looked to be in his early sixties, with thinning gray hair and a noticeable limp in his walk. He still wore an obvious orange prison jumpsuit, with the words _Lowell City DOC_ clearly stenciled on the back. He stood barely over 5'8", dwarfed by the batarians that surrounded him. Still, his back was ramrod straight, and his piercing blue eyes didn't betray even a hint of fear.

Upon laying eyes on him, Zoxiel frowned. "Why is he still in shackles?"

Lukat shrugged. "Instructions were to bring him here alive and unharmed. We did that. Anything else was up to our discretion."

"Take them off," Zoxiel said, a hint of annoyance finally crossing his features. "A man such as him deserves respect."

Lukat nodded, and one of his men hastily removed the shackles. The human massaged his wrists, wincing as the blood began to flow back into his hands. Zoxiel strode up to him, hands still locked behind his back. The two batarians that had escorted the human backed up a couple of steps as Zoxiel closed in until he loomed over the human who was at least thirteen inches shorter than the turian. The two stood silently appraising each other, the human having to strain his neck to look up into Zoxiel's eyes. After a few tense moments, the human smiled.

"You must be the individual I've been conversing with all these months."

Zoxiel returned the smile. "Dr. Sirogoj Curkovic. It's an honor to finally meet you in person." Then, to the surprise of every batarian present, Zoxiel took the Doctor in a wrist clasp.

Kharai seemed to notice the expressions on the batarians' faces. "Does this surprise you, my mate showing respect to this human?"

Her words caught Lukat off guard. "No, that's not what...I mean...I didn't..." Lukat took a breath to clear his mind. "What I meant was, he doesn't seem like...your kind of people."

This actually caused Kharai to laugh, a shrill unpleasant sound. Lukat had heard such a laugh before. It was the kind of maniacal laughter that had come from a former member of the crew who had lost himself during a raid and proceeded to gun down every resident of a colony instead of taking them as slaves. _And this is her almost relaxed. Hate to see her when she's actually in battle._

The laughter finally subsided. "You think that he's weak? Soft? Not a warrior?" She laughed again. "Oh no, he's something more important than any warrior."

Zoxiel, still locked into the wrist clasp nodded. "Indeed. Dr. Curkovic here is a designer of weapons. One of the best." He let go of Curkovic's wrist and turned to Lukat. "A warrior might be the the greatest of his generation, but without the right weapons, he is useless. In fact, we have a term for a warrior who doesn't respect the one who builds and maintains the arsenal. Do you know what it is?"

Lukat rolled all four of his eyes. "I give up."

Kharai crossed her arms over her distended belly. "A dead warrior."

"And this builder of weapons has more of the warrior spirit in him than most," Zoxiel said, turning back to Curkovic. "I must say Doctor, that when I heard why the Alliance gave you a life sentence, it almost made me sick. Designing a war simulation VI, and then being arrested when you actually used it to test soldiers' mettle in combat. Disgraceful."

Curkovic smiled, a sight only a bit less unnerving than the turians'. "Thank you, Mr. Delanovich. Or is it Zoxiel? I so enjoyed our communications while I was in prison. I do apologize for the coded transmissions I was forced to use. They watched me quite closely." His expression turned darker, deep furrows becoming evident on his face. "Those stupid, useless Alliance Generals. Accusing me of murder? The VI on Luna was one of my greatest creations. They wanted something to test the abilities of soldiers, so that's what I programmed it to do. And they arrest _me_ when those soldiers proved to be too weak to survive?" He spit on the ground. "May those fools burn in Hell!"

"It's _futtari _unfair, Doctor. But now, perhaps we can utilize your talents for a much more important task. There was one of your pet projects in particular that I found quite..."

"_This is a fucking waste of time."_

Everyone present turned to look at Emar'ak, who had spoken up yet again. _"We just risked our lives going into Alliance space, entering the fucking Sol system, raiding a prison transport on Mars, and you're talking about building weapons systems? So far, we have done all the work for NO FUCKING PAY! Risking my life to break some withered piece of shit out of prison was NOT what I signed on for. So why don't you tell me when we're going to start seeing this astronomical payday we've heard so much about?"_

_Yup. I am going to kill him now. _Lukat was reaching for his pistol when Kharai locked eyes on Emar'ak. Without saying a word, she strode right right up to him, causing some of the _Crimson Dawn's _crew to back away, just as it had been when Zoxiel walked up to Curkovic. But Emar'ak didn't move, looking into Kharai's feral eyes with a baleful stare of his own.

Emar'ak turned his eyes to Zoxiel. "_Tell this bloated bitch to get out of my face before I shove my boot into her-"_

His words were suddenly cut short as Kharai, with a speed almost impossible to perceive, shot her hand out and grabbed hold of Amar'ak's tongue. The force of the impact had knocked out several his teeth, causing a trickle of orange blood to seep from his mouth. Emar'ak lashed out at her arm, trying to break the hold, but the grip was like a vice. And then Kharai tightened her grip, causing the trickle of blood to become a stream. Emar'ak was driven to his knees, his muffled cries incomprehensible. Kharai started to giggle as she twisted her hand in his mouth, wrenching his tongue into positions it was not meant to be. Finally, with a wet tearing sound, Kharai ripped Emar'ak's tongue right out of his mouth. He fell to the ground gagging, trying not to choke to death on his own blood. Kharai, still giggling with pure joy, put her arm around Zoxiel's shoulder and raised the severed tongue to her nose. She inhaled deeply, then dragged the torn end down the base of Zoxiel's nose, leaving an orange streak of blood.

"_See mellis," _she said, her voice suddenly becoming throaty and aroused. "_Batarian does smell like s'kak."_

Lukat watched as Zoxiel's crest flushed blue. He pulled her close, his face an inch from hers. For a single moment, Lukat was sure that Zoxiel was going to take her, right there on the cargo bay floor in full view of everyone. Only with what seemed to be a supreme act of will was he able to regain control _"In a moment," _he whispered. As a parting gift, he bit her deeply on her shoulder. In response, she ran her finger through the bite wound. Looking into his eyes, she brought her bloody finger to her mouth and licked off the blood, slowly and suggestively. _"Don't keep me waiting," _she whispered back. With that she broke out again into maniacal laughter, and ran up the ramp into the _Cruentus._ As she did, she casually tossed Emar'ak's severed tongue into the darkness of the cargo bay. Zoxiel watched her go, his body language all but screaming that he wanted to follow her. However, he managed to turn his attention back to Lukat. "I trust the rest of your crew knows how to keep their mouths shut?"

Despite everything, Lukat actually found himself chuckling at the situation. Emar'ak was looking up at him, his eyes begging for help. _Now he wants to play the part of the wounded crew member, asking his captain for help. Delicious. _He leaned down to look into Emar'ak's face. _"Consider this lesson three about being a raider." _Standing up, he turned his attention back to Zoxiel. "No problem at all. I think this might be good for him. We will be ready to do our part, whenever the time comes."

Zoxiel nodded, satisfied. "Good. See that you are ready." He turned back to Curkovic. "I apologize for that. The young are somewhat impatient."

Curkovic dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "It's a shame really. Children are our future, you know. Makes me worry about the galaxy."

Zoxiel laughed. "Indeed. Now doctor, as I was saying, there was one of your theoretical projects I heard about that greatly interests me." He placed his hand on Curkovic's shoulder. "Tell me about Project Divine Fire."

**Illium**

Although she was not a physicist or a theoretical mathematician, Nashara Tashaeis was a firm believer in the idea that time was relative to the observer. She swore that her precious time off flew past at a rate ten to twenty times than that of her working periods, which by far took up most of her life. She estimated that her communications to her mother on Thessia probably slowed time down to about an eighth of normal. In meetings with the rest of Stellar Dynamics Corporation board on Illium, time was probably down to about one sixteenth of normal. But the elevator ride from the lobby to her apartment after returning from a week-long legislative vote with her mother on Thessia, she was certain that time was damn near inert. She stood, watching in silent impatience, as the numbers on the aerogel screen rose at a rate seemingly designed to tear away at her sanity. She was quite certain that even an asari such as herself could live an entire lifetime in one elevator ride.

She still could barely fathom the need for the trip to Thessia in the first place. She knew that the vote for business rights and new trade routes were vital to business, and Nashara was most certainly in that particular game. She also knew that her mother, the acting CEO of Stellar Dynamics on Thessia, had much riding on the vote. The company's bottom line was at stake, and nothing was more important to her than keeping that bottom line healthy and in the black. But the one thing that sent Nashara into such a stressful tizzy was why she had to go to Thessia to participate in the vote there. She could just as easily have made her vote from Illium, right in her own apartment or office with a glass of wine in hand. But her mother had insisted, and defying her own mother was not something Nashara was quite ready to deal with. She was only a hundred and four years old after all. _Give it time. Eventually, you'll be truly independent, even from her._

Finally, mercifully, the elevator arrived at her floor. The doors slid open, and after taking her first step into her own apartment, the stress of the past week seemed to melt away. Her automatic lights clicked on, bathing the whole vast apartment in a pleasant glow. Nashara sighed, trying to get whatever lingering unpleasantness that might be left out of her with one exhale of breath. _Goddess, I need a drink. _She stepped into the main living room, easily as large and open as a decent sized convention hall. Between the carpet of hand crafted Thessian fibers to the imported furniture, the room could be considered comfortable to many heads of state. _There are perks to wealth, _she often thought. _Take advantage of them._ She loved using her own apartment for business deals. No matter who it was, from volus trade ministers to visiting Hierarchy dignitaries, the visual and tactile experience of her living room often gave Nashara the edge she needed.

"Ashkara, activation code 856372."

Immediately, Ashkara, her personal VI assistant flickered to life on its terminal in the middle of the living room. The VI simulation was designed to look exactly like her mother. It felt good to be able to order her mother around, even if it was just a simulation.

"_VI Ashkara is online and active. Welcome home mistress Nashara."_

Nashara stood in front of her vast wine collection, dozens of rare Thessian Vintages organized neatly on wooden shelves. "List messages, Ashkara."

The VI went right to work. _"Of course mistress. Zithaer Tashaeis sent a communication twelve hours ago. She expressed her gratitude at your presence on Thessia for the vote and wished to-"_

"Skip that message." _Yes, yes. I'm sure you were grateful for my vote, mother. I just got home, and don't really feel like listening to you drone on._ She ran her finger across the labels of her wine bottles, trying to decide what vintage would get the rest of the whole sordid trip out of her mind. "Next message."

"_Yes mistress. The security office sent a message indicating that a package has been sent to their offices addressed to you."_

That one got Nashara's attention. "Who is it from?

"_I believe the message indicated that it was from the Thessian Vintage Association."_

Nashara immediately forgot about selecting a wine from the shelf. "You're sure? The package is from the TVA?"

"_Yes mistress. The message was quite clear. I could place an inquiry to be sure-"_

"Never mind," she interrupted. "Have the security office send it up at once."

"_Right away, mistress."_

Nashara could scarcely believe it. _Had they truly managed to find it? _It seemed to good to be true, but that was the only thing it could be if the TVA had sent it directly. Nashara was a great connoisseur of Thessian wines, as her personal collection would prove to any observer. But a few choice vintages were missing in her collection. If the shipment was what she thought it might be, that collection would finally be complete.

Minutes later, the service elevator chimed, causing Ashkara to go into security mode. _"The security office has sent a signal indicating that an agent has arrived via service elevator carrying packages addressed to you. The security office has certified that the packages and delivering agent have been properly vetted by all procedures. Do you wish to allow the delivery?"_

_Of course I do, you idiot machine!_ Nashara kept that thought in her head. She had a reputation and image to uphold. She straightened up and said, "Yes Ashkara. I authorize the delivery."

The service elevator opened, revealing a salarian wearing the uniform of a building security agent. He also had a sidearm strapped to his hip, the only way to get a weapon anywhere near the tenants of the building. Next to him was a cargo dolly, loaded with one large medium crate and a smaller one stacked on top. The salarian snapped to attention as Nashara approached.

"Greetings Mistress Tashaeis. I have your deliveries. If you could sign here, I can make the transfer."

He handed Nashara a datapad. She had never bothered to get to know the names of any of the security personnel in the building. They were just uniforms that talked as far as she was concerned. This one was no different. She took the datapad, signed the release, and roughly handed it back. "Good. You may place them on the kitchen counter," she said, pointing to her polished marble counter top The salarian obliged, setting the two crates down like they were priceless artifacts. The official policy of the building was that anything broken by the building staff would be replaced out of the offending staff member's pay. Given what the building security staff was paid, it would most likely take the salarian guard far more than his entire lifetime to pay it off.

The salarian gave a curt bow, and marched straight back to the service elevator. The moment the doors closed, Nashara had completely forgotten about him. She focused all of her attention on the packing crates on her kitchen counter. She carefully broke the seal of the medium sized crate, lifting the metal lid like it was a sarcophagus of some ancient asari Matriarch. Inside were two glass bottles, packed tightly in form-fitting foam. Carefully, oh so carefully, she slid one of the frosted glass bottles out of the crate. She held her breath, savoring the moment, before finally looking at the bottle's label. And then all thoughts of the last week were gone.

_By the Goddess, they did it. I don't know how, but they did. _She was looking at an actual bottle of Thessian Ash Wine, one of the rarest vintages in all of asari space. Fifteen hundred years ago, a previously dormant volcano had erupted on Thessia, showering wide swaths of land with several feet of volcanic ash. This land included several acres of wine vineyards. The owners of the vineyards had rushed to try to save the harvest before the ash could kill off the entire year's crop. The fruit was picked before it had time to ripen, but the owners had decided to go ahead and process the early harvest to cut their losses. When the fruit was pressed, they discovered that particles of the ash has seeped into the fruit. Combined with the rawness of the fruit, the ash had given the wine unique qualities that the owners of the vineyards had never seen. The result was a wine so rare and unique, it became the gold standard for wine enthusiasts. It was so prized because the situation of its creation were impossible to replicate. The numbers of available bottles had dwindled over the centuries, and now it was considered impossible to find.

_And yet, I'm holding a bottle of it right in my hands. _She debated even opening it, thinking it might be to rare to actually drink. But as she reached in and pulled out the other bottle from the crate, her heart fluttered. Her contacts in the TVA had sent her not one, but _two _bottles of Ash Wine. She couldn't believe her good fortune. All thoughts of her foul mood were gone. _I might even call my mother back __tonight. _One of the bottles would get a place of honor in her collection. The other, she decided, must be sampled right now.

She went back to her wine shelves and reached for one of the pure crystal wine glasses she kept in special shelf built over the wine shelves. Placing the glass on the marble counter, she tore away the seal on the bottle, the same seal that had been put in place fifteen centuries ago. Then, with an almost religious respect, she opened the bottle. The sent that came out was utterly tantalizing. She carefully poured herself a glass, opaque violet liquid cloudy with the presence of ash particles from the ancient eruption. The raised it to her lips, taking another moment to savor the scent, one of the rarest scents in the galaxy. Then, the anticipation too much to resist, she took her first sip.

_All the writings of the siari faith have nothing on this. _Nashara closed her eyes, letting the wine wash over her. There were going to be quite a number of jealous colleagues in the board room tomorrow. Several members of the Stellar Dynamics board also considered themselves collectors of fine wines, and Nashara found herself in frequent discussions and competitions with them. Who had the best vintage? Who had the most refined palate? Who had the most complete collection? Nashara had a feeling that she would soon be the winner in all of those topics.

Only then did she realize that Ashkara was still waiting with more messages. Nashara sighed, and finally turned her attention back to the VI.

"Continue messages."

"_Yes mistress. Representative Kesserak of the Vol Protectorate has tried to reach you several times regarding the Zada Ban Contract."_

That surprised her. At the moment, Stellar Dynamics was involved in a deal to build a fleet of new ore freighters for the volus government, all with specialized ore containers designed to shield the radiation from the rich uranium ore that the planet had in such abundance. It was a deal that Nashara had personally brokered over months of careful negotiation with the Protectorate's representative Dask Kesserak. _What could be his problem now? _At any other time, she would let it go and contact him the next morning. But the wine had put her in a good mood, and Nashara decided that she could deal with it now.

"Set up a link and contact Representative Kesserak now."

"_Right away, mistress."_

It only took a minute to establish the link. And when Kesserak's face finally appeared on the aerogel screen, Nashara could sense his anger even through the pressure suit.

"Representative Kesserak," she said, taking another sip of wine. "I understand you wanted to speak with-"

"Don't play games with me, Nashara!" Kesserak sounded outright livid. "I want to know what kind of hustle your company is trying to run on my government!"

Nashara realized she was a bit more tired than she thought. She was feeling a bit drowsy. But she couldn't worry about that. One of her business clients seemed to be accusing her of malfeasance.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be a bit more specific, Mr. Kesserak."

Kesserak lifted a datapad, waving it in front of him like a piece of evidence at a trial. "Maybe you can explain to me why I just learned from my own engineers that the ore freighters your corporation is building for us are short on the cargo capacity agreed to in the contract by almost ten percent?"

Nashara shrugged. "Would these be the same engineers who spent the last three months looking over the design specs we sent over? The same engineers that signed off on those specs not two weeks ago?"

"The numbers are right here," Kesserak said, smacking the datapad with his outstretched hand. "Ten percent under ore capacity! This is a violation of contract!"

Nashara actually found herself amused by Kesserak's outburst. _He's actually trying to put this all on me. How delightful._ She sat down on her vast sofa, crossing her legs and taking another sip of her ash wine. "Mr. Kesserak, the terms of the contract are quite clear. Your engineers had ample time to look over the ship specifications. It is hardly the fault of Stellar Dynamics that your engineers got their numbers wrong. The ships are already under construction as we speak. If you want to change the specifications to allow more cargo space now, construction would have to be halted. This can all be done, but the penalty for a work stoppage and a redesign would have to be applied."

"What?" Kesserak staggered like he had been shot. "You expect _me_ to pay a penalty for this? Have you lost your damned mind?"

"If you wish to bring this up to Illium's Trade Commission_, _that is your choice." Nashara kept her voice clipped and precise. "But if you decide to go that path, just remember one thing. Our attorneys are among the best on Illium, if not the galaxy. They live for problems like this. By the time they are finished in the courts, it is very likely that Stellar Dynamics will, be default, own a sizable percentage of your government. Or, you can pay the penalty and be done with it." Nashara gave him a devious smile. "The choice is yours."

Kesserak shook with anger. "You spiteful asari bitch!"

Nashara kept smiling. "You don't need to make your decision now. Sleep on it. We can continue this conversation tomorrow during normal business hours. Now, if there's nothing else, I'm quite tired. Goodnight, Mr. Kesserak."

She cut off the transmission before the volus could spout any more bile. Nashara was feeling tired all of a sudden. _Best to leave everything else until morning. _She downed the last of the wine in her glass. "Ashkara, hold remaining messages."

"_Of course, mistress. Going into standby mode. Have a pleasant evening."_

Nashara stood up, ready to slip into bed. She didn't realize that something was wrong until she tried to take a step and found her vision swimming. Vertigo overtook her, causing her to grab hold of the sofa to keep from falling over. Alarm washed over her instantly. This had never happened before. She had been drunk before, especially during her time in university, but this was far worse. She looked at the crystal wine glass in her hand, only to have it slip from her fingers. It hit the corner of her large end table, shattering on impact. _I have to get building security on the line._

"Ashkara, activation code eight, five...five...six..."

Nashara found she couldn't quite get the words out. Her voice was slurring, and the whole apartment started to spin. Vaguely, her mind was telling her to get to the security console next to the service elevator. She could contact building security from there. She focused her eyes on the console, trying to block out everything else. _Just focus on the console. Get to the console and activate the alarm. Don't think about anything else. Just get to the damned console._

Nashara took a step toward her salvation, and promptly crashed to her carpeted floor. Her vision grew blurry, and then blacked out all together.

When she finally began to swim back into consciousness, Nashara had no idea how much time had passed. She was vaguely aware that she was sitting in one of her dining room chairs. The texture of the imported Thessian softwood was unmistakable. She tried to stand up, but felt something tied around her waist and wrists holding her to the chair. No, not really felt. Her nerves were somewhat deadened and unresponsive. She shook her head, trying to clear her vision. As her eyes came back into focus, she saw that she was indeed tied to one of her dining room chairs, but the chair had been moved into her kitchen. She was sure her feet were on the marble floor of her kitchen rather than the carpet in the dining room.

"What's...what's going on here," she called out. "What is this?"

"_I'll be right with you."_

The voice came out of nowhere. It was galactic, but sounded like it was coming from a radio or comm system. Now truly alarmed, her head whipped from side to side, trying to find the source of the voice.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?"

"_Quiet. I told you, I'll get to you in a moment."_

She could at least tell that the voice was coming from the living room, somewhere next to the window where her private desk was. She tried to use her feet to move the chair, but found her feet were tied to the chair legs. Grunting in frustration, she craned her neck, trying to see into the living room. She just managed to get the desk in her line of sight, and finally caught sight of the intruder. At first, all she could see was a large figure in a heavy black overcoat. From the way the figure stood, it had to be a human or batarian. But what was even more disturbing was that her private terminal was open. The terminal that had several layers of very impressive safeguards to prevent anyone from getting at the information.

"How...how did you get that terminal active?"

"_I said quiet."_ Even through the electronic garbling, the voice sounded flat and emotionless. She could at least tell the voice belonged to a male. Probably not batarian either. The inflection, what little there was, was all wrong for that. _A human then._ _Okay, he's probably here for something. Do what you do. Negotiate._

"Look, do you even know who I am," Nashara asked. "I'm sure we can work something out."

The figure finally turned around and approached her. As soon as he stepped close enough, Nashara finally got a good look at him. Upon doing so, she wished she hadn't. The human was tall, at least a good six foot six. But that was all she could make out. Under the heavy overcoat was a set of light tactical armor, painted with black, white, and gray urban camouflage patterns. But it was the helmet that unnerved her the most. It was completely black, the faceplate smooth and featureless. But painted on the front was the image of a human skull, the teeth slightly exaggerated. Instead of the normal rictus smile of a skull's teeth, it was pulled back into a fiendish grin. Had she seen the skull mask in a picture or from across the room, she would have found it comical. Tied to the chair looking up at it, however, she felt her blood chill.

"_Of course I know who you are. Nashara Tashaeis. Senior Vice President of Stellar Dynamics Corporation, Illium Branch._"

"Then, you are you?"

The human crossed his arms over his armored chest. _"Revenant."_

_Revenant? Never heard of him. _"You're a mercenary?"

"_Most of the time."_

_Okay, now we're getting somewhere. Mercenary. Use that. _

"Look, no matter who paid you to do whatever it is that you're doing, I can quintuple it with no effort. So how about we drop the intimidation thing and get down to business, shall we?"

"_Quintuple what I'm getting paid to be here?"_ Revenant tilted his head to the side. _"That would be a pretty simple thing to do. Five times zero is still zero. I'm not here for money."_

This was not the answer Nashara expected. "You're not here for money? What kind of nonsense is that? What are you here for?"

Revenant pointed to her private terminal. "_I'm here because of you other business. Information broker. The business that you run out of your apartment, and keep well away from your corporate office."_

Her eyes widened. "How do you know about that."

"_Had it narrowed down to either you or Liara T'Soni. Lucky for her, she knows how to do background checks on her clients."_

"How did you even access that terminal? There are over twelve layers of protection. There's no way-"

"_Only needed to get passed the first one." _He tossed something onto Nashara's lap. _"The DNA scanner."_

The moment she saw what Revenant had tossed onto her lap, she started screaming. It was the index finger from her right hand. Her nerves, still deadened from whatever was in her system, hadn't even felt it. Now, as she looked down at her hand, seeing the neatly cut end of her finger, still seeping violet blood, she felt it. Now she was struggling for dear life, trying to get loose from her restraints. No matter how much she struggled, the restraints held. _Okay, you are not defenseless. You are an asari._ Out of panicked reflex, she tried to summon up her biotics. Anything to get her out of her restraints or get this madman away from her. But the blue biotic field that normally came so easily to her fizzled like a bad bulb. Revenant stood over her dispassionately, showing no reaction at all to her struggles.

"_I added something to the wine you ordered. Didn't want those biotics to ruin our time together. The chems I had to use are also what's deadening your nerves. Don't struggle to hard. It lessens the effect of the painkiller. And you might thank me for that, in a moment."_

He walked away from her, which was actually more terrifying. Now, Nashara couldn't tell what he was doing. Her heart was slamming in her chest, and she felt the first stages of hyperventilation coming on.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?," she screamed in utter terror. "JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!"

Revenant soon came back, carrying the small package that had come with the wine. He broke the security seal, opened the lid, and removed a bottle from the crate. It wasn't a wine bottle, nor was it asari. It didn't have the sleek cylindrical shape that asari wines came in. It was square shaped, tapering off into a long thin tip.

"_You didn't open this one. The wine, I just added something to. But this is from me to you. I know you don't drink hard spirits, but I'm hoping you'll accept the gift symbolically."_

He held the bottle in front of her. _"Do you recognize the year? It means a lot to me. And so does the distillery."_

Despite her fear, despite everything raging through her mind, she actually found her eyes drawn to the label on the bottle. It was a hard grain spirit, obviously of human manufacture. Her eyes then slid over the distillery logo. It was some place on...she squinted her eyes...Terra Nova. At first, she didn't place it, but when she saw the year of the manufacturing, all the color drained from her face.

"Wait, you can't think-"

"_You sold the data detailing the moving of the asteroid to Terra Nova to a maniac like him? What did you think he was going to do with it?"_

"No! I can explain-"

Without a word or a hint of warning, Revenant slid the bottle around in his hands so he was gripping it by the tip, and brought it down hard onto Nashara's head. The bottle shattered on impact, showering her in foul-smelling spirits. The words coming out of her mouth weren't even words now. She was screaming, sobbing, and swearing in one long inarticulate stream of noise. Revenant took a few steps away, and then turned back to her. He watched and listened to her ravings in silence for a few moments,waiting for her to quiet down. When she finally did, managing to condense her rage of emotion into a more coherent string of threats and insults, Revenant held up a gloved finger.

"_If you recognize the significance of the bottle, then that really should have come as no surprise."_

Nashara started to threaten him again, going into grim description as to what she would do to him once she got loose. The threats stopped as Revenant reached into one of the pockets on his overcoat and pulled out a standard issue military signal flare. His gloved thumb flipped the switch, causing the flare to light up in brilliant phosphorous light.

"_And neither should this."_

And he tossed the flare right into her lap.


	2. Chapter 2: The Game

**Lowell City, Mars**

The first thing Colonel William Kynaston noticed upon entering the briefing room was the dark, hungry looks of the men seated around the table. Kynaston had been in the employ of the Systems Alliance Intelligence Service long enough to know a first-rate clusterfuck when he saw it. The sole purpose of this meeting in the capital of the Mars colony was to place blame for the very severe breach of security that Kynaston was just about to give a briefing on. _A metric ton of shite, and everyone here is looking for a person to shovel it on. This is going to get very bloody interesting._

He had just entered the room and no one seemed to take notice, so Kynaston allowed himself to take stock of the five very humorless officials seated around the large conference table. First, there was Alice Korensky, governor and chief administrator of Mars. Kynaston had seen ice sculptures decorating the banquet table of upper-crust parties that had more warmth and life than she did. She put on a good act for the news vids when a smiling public face was needed, but Kynaston was sure that it took a team of makeup and construction crews hours to assemble that face. Outside of public events, Korensky never smiled, and spoke in a voice that sounded like the headmaster of the boarding school Kynaston was incarcerated at for most of his childhood. The black power suit and dark glasses only added to the whole "ice queen" effect.

Seated at the head of the table was Kenji Saito, chief Security Advisor to Systems Alliance President Toffolio. Kynaston had to wonder how the small Japanese man had gotten the job despite being only thirty-three years old. He put on a good front of the professional advisor, but it was obvious that he existed on nothing more than stimulant chems and ambition. Kynaston could see the sweating brow, the slight tremble to the hand, and the eyes that just screamed of travel lag. _He's been up for at least forty hours straight. _

Seated next to Administrator Korensky was Alex Hannover, the Mars Chief of Prisons. Kynaston knew that Mars was ideal for prison construction in the Sol system. Lots of open space, close proximity to Earth, and a lot of free mining that prisoners could be utilized for. And Warden of Wardens probably seemed like a very cushy post for the ladder-climbing civil servant. Looking at him, though, Kynaston saw the face of a man who just got caught sleeping at the wheel. Pale but composed. If Kynaston stepped closer, he was sure that the smell of alcohol would be evident on Hannover's breath. _Bet you haven't been looking forward to this little family meeting._

The most surprising face at the table was none other than Admiral Steven Hackett, commanding officer of the entire Alliance Fifth Fleet. Kynaston couldn't fathom why Hackett was here of all places, when his primary command was on Arcturus Station. This seemed almost like slumming for someone as prestigious as the Admiral. _Whatever he's here for, it almost certainly has nothing to do with a prison break._

But it was the last person that actually made Kynaston pause and take notice. To the untrained eye, the young, tall man in his early thirties could blend right into a crowd and disappear. The suit was average, probably no more than a hundred credits in any clothing store in human space. But Kynaston saw far more. It was imperceptible to anyone not in the business, but Kynaston saw it all. The slight upturned angle to the chin, the mouth that had a minute hint of an all-knowing smirk, and the eyes that held an air of smugness and superiority. Kynaston knew exactly what that look said. It had been put forth by a nameless agent over a century ago, back when the FBI was still a separate agency from the NABI. Kynaston had read the quote while archiving the case notes of agents long since dead. The look said, _I come from times and places beyond your comprehension. We have held governments in our hand, and altered the course of human civilization. Our history is unknowable, replaced by arcane lore. We are The Company. Mortals, fuck off._

Administrator Korensky was the first to acknowledge the Colonel's presence. "Colonel Kynaston, I assume that you have completed your investigation."

Kynaston snapped to attention. "The investigation is still being conducted, and most likely won't be fully complete for several days. I do have enough for a general recitation of the facts."

Security Advisor Saito fidgeted in his seat. "Colonel, I am due to travel back to Arcturus Station in a little less than an hour," he said, his English only having the faintest trace of an accent. "I have a veritable shitstorm of crises that I have to give the President a briefing on. I have colonies vanishing out in the Traverse, recruitment quotas for Alliance personnel down nearly ten percent from expected levels, and I've got the batarians building what can only be a weapon of mass destruction that they're calling an energy production project. It would be nice to be able to report one damned problem that has a quick resolution."

"Sorry sir, but I'm afraid this one is going to be something of a ballsed-up mess." Kynaston tapped a console on the table, bringing up a large aerogel screen showing what appeared to be a maglev train stopped dead on its track. "As you are all most likely aware, at oh dark thirty, night before last, a transport train carrying prisoners on a routine trip from Charitum Montse Maximum Security Prison to Lowell City was intercepted en-route by an unknown party. The assailants boarded the transport, killing almost everyone aboard. We are still looking into it, but so far, we've been unable to find any motive for this attack."

Korensky turned her gaze to Warden Hannover. "I know that you have an excellent reputation in the realm of Correctional Administration, Mr. Hannover. Your work on similar facilities on Earth and Terra Nova have been quite impressive. So I hope you will keep those words in mind when I ask you how the hell could security have been so lax that you allow a transport train carrying eighty-three of your prisoners to be intercepted without anyone getting a warning out."

Hannover cleared his throat. "I wish I could tell you more. We have very elaborate security protocols in place any time prisoners are being transported. There is a minimum of one guard for every five inmates, full immobilizing restraints are employed at all times, and the transport is in constant contact with both the place of departure and the destination. The comm channels used for communications are carefully monitored around the clock," Hannover shrugged, apologetically. "I'm sorry, But I just have no idea how anyone could have done this."

"Sounds like incompetence to me," The Company agent muttered under his breath.

Korensky gave him a dirty look, but refrained from actually addressing the agent. _Probably shit scared of him. _Kynaston signaled for attention. "Warden Hannover is correct. The security protocols were in place at all times. I checked with both the prison and the Lowell City transmitters. Both systems reported the train's progress as normal. Neither station detected any kind of deviation from the train's transponder. According to all sources, the train was never in any trouble."

Admiral Hackett spoke up for the first time. "How exactly is that possible, Colonel Kynaston? How could somebody stop the train without anyone on either side noticing?"

_Glad you bloody asked. _"I've been crunching some facts on that one. The transponder channel that links the train to both the point of origin and the point of arrival is highly encrypted. Theoretically, only the Warden of the prison and the Chief of Prisons should have access to the transponder codes. Still, when you eliminate all of the variables and are left with only facts, the answer is obvious. Someone had the codes and used them to disrupt the transponder signal."

"How is that possible," Hannover sputtered. "Those codes require government level clearance to obtain."

"What about the motive?" Saito asked. "Why would anyone go to the trouble of stealing the codes and stopping a prison transport train just to execute all the prisoners and guards?"

"Not all of the prisoners," Kynaston said, placing his hands behind his back.

All eyes turned back to him. "What do you mean, not all of them," Korensky asked, her eyebrows arching from underneath her glasses.

"We did a thorough headcount of the bodies," Kynaston replied, bringing up the data on the aerogel screen. "Sixteen guards, the two conductors, and eighty-two prisoners were among the dead. One prisoner was unaccounted for."

Hannover was suddenly on his feet. "Unaccounted for? Which one?"

Kynaston pointed to the screen. "Prisoner 66315. Doctor Sirogoj Curkovic."

At the mention of the name, the Company agent started massaging his temples. Hackett scratched his chin. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"It should." Kynaston tapped another button on the console, bringing up the prisoner sheet for Curkovic. "Sirogoj Curkovic. Sixty-two years old. Croatian. Received perfect scores on a college aptitude test at the age of twelve. Entered the Michigan Institute of Technology on a full scholarship at the age of thirteen. Graduated with a double doctorate in engineering and theoretical physics at the age of seventeen. Became head of the Alliance Special Weapons Division when he was twenty years old. Some experts say he was the reason why we were able to drive the turians out of Shanxi during the war. Mental acumen placed in a comparable level to some salarians."

"If he was such an asset, then why was he in prison?" Korensky asked.

Hackett nodded, finally placing the name. "The Luna VI incident."

Saito seemed to place the name as well. "You're talking about the rogue VI that killed several Marines on the Luna Proving Grounds two years ago."

Kynaston nodded. "Indeed. The public story was that the station's VI went off the bloody track and started gunning down the marines taking part in the exercise. Took the intervention of an N7 unit to finally shut down the VI and retake the base." Kynaston shot a quick glance to the Company Agent. "Of course, like I said, that was the public story."

That statement seemed to finally rouse the Agent from his silence. "Colonel, I hardly think that everyone in this room has the clearance for that. I don't think I need to remind you that there are protocols for this-"

Hackett held up his hand. "I _do _have clearance Agent Hauser. As I remember, my clearance is quite a bit higher than yours. And I'm making the call here. Colonel Kynaston, you may proceed."

_I could bloody well kiss you, Admiral. And what's this? The invincible agent didn't like having his name revealed. Who says that there isn't a God above. _"Of course, Admiral. What wasn't so widely known is that the VI didn't actually go rogue. Dr. Curkovic was the primary designer of the VI system. It seems that he actually designed the system to open fire on the marines as soon as the exercise began. That was discovered when the cleanup team moved in after the system was shut down. The good doctor didn't even bother to try to hide the modifications he made."

Korensky leaned forward in her seat. "And why exactly would someone of his stature do that?"

Kynaston grinned. "Sometimes, the line between genius and batshit insane is a thin one. It turns out, Curkovic crossed the line, drove over it in a Mako, and then pissed all over it. In fact, Curkovic's last five psychological evaluations before the Luna incident listed severe emotional disturbance. The fifth one, in fact, diagnosed him with probable outright megalomania. But due to the work he was doing for Alliance Secret Ops, the evaluations were somehow lost."

"Ridiculous," Hauser said, some of the smug look vanishing from his face. "Dr. Curkovic has never worked for Alliance Black Ops. He was strictly in the employ of Special Weapons."

Kynaston's eye twitched. _Did you really just say that? Are you really serving yourself up to me like a pint of stout? Dear God in Heaven above, I take back all the things I said about you from my senior year of boarding school. _"He's never worked for Black Ops?"

"Was I unclear, Colonel? No, the man has never worked for Black Ops."

"Well, that's interesting." Kynaston tapped the console again, bringing up a different screen. "Because according to MI6 extranet intercepts, Dr. Curkovic has had regular access to the Alliance MILNET for the entire two years he was incarcerated." He added with a smile, "With Black Level security clearance. Now, I don't think Admiral Hackett here has that kind of access, but I think we can guess which agency does."

Hauser suddenly looked very uncomfortable. _ "_Now wait just a minute-"

Kynaston didn't stop. "From what we've been able to read so far, most of the people Curkovic's been in contact with are the research teams of various defense contractors, most of which have active deals with the Alliance military. But there is one name that doesn't fit that profile." Kynaston tapped the console again, zooming in on one of the extranet logs. "Curkovic was having quite a few conversations with one Mikhail Delanovich. The interesting thing here is that this Delanovich person doesn't seem to be a defense contractor. In fact, he doesn't actually appear to exist. The domain name is a fake, and the signal originated from deep inside the Terminus Systems."

At that point, Korensky, Hannover, and Saito all stood up and began firing off angry accusations at Agent Hauser. Kynaston could make out a few of them. _Company bullshit. Gross breach of security. _Kynaston's favorite had to be _official inquiry. _After only a few seconds of this, Hauser decided to beat a hasty retreat. Hannover followed him out, still railing against what he saw as a deliberate usurpation of his prison system. Korensky and Saito simply watched them go, livid masks of rage etched onto both their faces.

Finally rising from his seat, Admiral Hackett decided to play the part of the calming presence. "I think perhaps it might be better to reconvene at a different time."

Korensky nodded in agreement. "Thank you Admiral. I think that's for the best. Oh eight hundred tomorrow then?"

Saito walked up and shook Hackett's hand. "Thank you for attending Admiral. I know that you have quite a lot on your plate. Dammit, the President is just going to love this."

Saito left without another word. Korensky nodded to Hackett, and then turned to give a long, hard stare at Kynaston. _ If looks could kill. _It was obvious that she didn't quite appreciate the little stunt that Kynaston just played in her capital. _Luckily, I don't answer to you. _Finally, just to maintain her diplomatic posture, she gave a slight nod in Kynaston's direction.

"Thank you for the briefing, Colonel. My own investigators can handle it from here."

Kynaston nodded back at her. "Those glasses make you look like a wanker. You do know that, right?"

For her credit, Korensky knew to walk away before she did or said anything that could result in a scandal. She stormed out of the room in a huff, clamping her mouth shut to avoid what was most certainly trying to explode forth. Kynaston and Hackett watched her leave until the doors clicked shut behind her. When they were finally alone, Hackett gave an amused smirk.

"It's a damned good thing you're not in the diplomatic corps. You'd most likely start the First Contact War all over again if we ever sent you to Palaven."

Kynaston gave a smirk of his own. "Not my job to be diplomatic."

Hackett shrugged. "Still, you did seem to enjoy yourself."

"Good work is happy work, Admiral."

Hackett took a moment to straighten his uniform. "If you're not too eager to jump back into that happy work, would you mind joining me for a drink?"

Kynaston finally laughed. "Thought you'd never bloody ask."

Ten minutes later, both of them sat in the Lowell City starport bar, Alliance military caps resting on the table. Hackett had ordered a bourbon on the rocks while Kynaston went to work on a pint of Guinness. Hackett gave a scowl to Kynaston's beer and shook his head. "I never get used to you Brits drinking that warm."

Kynaston raised his glass. "That's because we don't have to ice our beer down to kill the piss flavor."

Hackett smiled and took another sip. "So, you really don't care that Agent Hauser is probably going to have you on his shit list for the rest of eternity."

"Hell, Admiral. I've gotten my name on so many shit lists over the years that I'm sure half the bloody Alliance would love to see some accident befall me. But as for Hauser, exposing dirty little Company secrets is one of the things that makes me want to get up in the morning. That, and reminding them every January first that another year has gone by, and I still haven't retired."

"So," Hackett said, keeping a level gaze on Kynaston. "About this whole prison break thing?"

Kynaston snorted. "Doesn't exactly take a bloody genius to see it. Whoever broke him out did so for one reason. To make use of Curkovic's skills as a weapons maker. And whoever did it had access to high level Alliance intell and security codes."

"Any idea on who it might be?"

"One of the best designers of advanced weaponry in the entire galaxy?" Kynaston shrugged. "Who wouldn't want him? I'm sure whoever the Alliance chooses to carry on the investigation will come up with a veritable buffet of nefarious blighters who fit the bill. Not really my problem anymore."

"I wasn't talking to whoever the Alliance decides to assign to this." Hackett leaned in a bit closer. "I'm asking you."

Kynaston swirled the contents of his glass. "I don't have any hard facts. Just theories."

"Then give me your theory."

Kynaston took a long swig of his beer. "All right. You want to know who I think it was? Batarians."

Hackett's eyes went wide. "You're kidding?"

"Afraid not, old chap." Kynaston finished off his glass and signaled for another round. "Lord only knows how many batarian raids I've had the ill fortune to see the aftermath of. The prison train has some of their hallmarks."

"Such as?"

"Well, to start with, the whole thing just reeks of a professional raider. Whoever did this knew exactly how to board a moving vehicle and quickly neutralize anyone they find. But I know what you're going to say. Any group who's ever hijacked a ship could do that. Fine. Then let me get to the juicy part. The prisoners were gunned down still shackled to their seats. Simple. A group of men line up and open fire. Over in a matter of seconds. But the guards? They were lined up, one by one and executed. And most of them were killed by a different weapon than the last. Shotguns, rifles, pistols, even a couple of slit throats. All one shot per man to the back of the head. And none of the bullets recovered from the bodies had the same striation marks. So, either a few men kept exchanging weapons to execute the guards or..."

Hackett nodded grimly. "They all took turns."

"Give the man a cigar." The waiter came by with another Guinness, which Kynaston gratefully accepted. "That is a classic signature of batarian raiding parties. Secure the ship and have a little fun and games with the now helpless crew. You can see why I didn't mention this at that most secret palaver today."

"Indeed. No one would want to be the one to admit that batarians somehow managed to slip right into our own backyard and slap us in the face."

"Sodding politicians and their little fiefdoms of shite. Useless as fake tits on a corpse." Kynaston took another long swig of beer. "So, Admiral. Why exactly were you there today? This hardly seems like something the CO of the entire Fifth Fleet would give a toss about."

Hackett smiled. "Believe it or not, I was on leave to visit the family back on Earth. Got another granddaughter. That makes the running total nine. I'm starting to lose count."

Kynaston raised his glass. "I think a quick congrats are in order. Nine rugrats? Getting a bit crowded at home?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. Starting to think I might have to take an extended leave just to get to know them all over again. How about you?"

"Peachy," Kynaston said with a cheer that Hackett didn't quite believe. "The family just purchased another dozen Ezo rigs out on the frontier, bringing our total up to twenty. My youngest nephew just graduated Oxford with an MBA. Not only that, but my cousin Stanley is getting Knighted in a couple of months. All in all, I'd say life is dangerously close to perfection."

Hackett shook his head. "You always were a terrible liar. So, no bullshit Billy. How are you really doing?"

"I've been serving in Military Intelligence for almost thirty years, I have the Star of Terra, and I'm still a bloody Colonel." Kynaston downed his remaining beer. "How the hell do you think I'm doing? I write the reports and compile the information that no one wants to hear, don't bother with the sugar coating to make any of those inconvenient facts go down easier, and I speak my bloody mind when no one else will. And what do I get from them? Empty promises of 'we'll get right on that' and a bloody black mark on my record from here to eternity."

Hackett just sighed. As far as he was concerned, the treatment that William Kynaston had received over the past thirty years was a disgrace. Kynaston had served the Alliance since the First Contact War, first as an N7 operative, then as a member of Alliance Military Intelligence. Kynaston was well suited for the job in all regards but one; he despised the politics. When he found out a bit of sensitive intel, he didn't believe in holding it back, or omitting certain uncomfortable facts. It had been the milestone that hung from his neck his entire career. Kynaston was brilliant at the spy game. From forming contacts, to information retrieval and counterintelligence, he was one of the best. But he couldn't play the political game that came with the job. And it was, Hackett suspected, the debacle of two years ago that placed one of the most brilliant minds in AMI into an investigation of a prison train.

"You're still holding the torch for her? After all this time?"

Kynaston's gaze narrowed. "Somebody bloody well has to. She saves the lives of everyone in the galaxy, and as a thank you, the Council tells everyone that she's a lunatic? Bollocks to that!"

"You think she wasn't crazy?"

"Believe me, if she was a head case, I would know!" Kynaston suddenly realized how tightly he was holding his glass and put it on the table to avoid breaking it. "I've run the numbers and I've run her profile dozens of times. It doesn't add up. Her whole family wiped out on Mindior, she loses her entire unit on Akuze, and somehow manages to keep it together. Even after the time she gets left alone with captured batarian slavers, she doesn't slot the lot of them. She goes on to years of extraordinary service, gets to be the first human Specter, brings down Saren, saves the lives of the entire Council, and only then suddenly loses her mind and starts raving about sentient machines coming to wipe out all life? A bloody brain dead politician could see that makes no sense. But no, they all say she was under 'undue stress', and made the whole bloody thing up. I swear, if there was a more useless lot than politicians, I defy you to find them. Especially that turian councilor. If you were a thought going through his head, it would be the quickest trip in the galaxy."

"So, you believe she was telling the truth?"

Kynaston just nodded. "I'm not a politician Steven. I don't have to deal with the burden of shite. I deal in facts. So, when I add all the facts together, about her psychological profile, her story, and the evidence before me, I'm left with only one conclusion. Everything she said was true."

Hackett looked away. "Have you ever thought that she just might be very charismatic and able to convince people of far out stories?"

"I've thought of that. In fact, if it had just been the crew of the _Normandy_, then that might be a possibility. But it wasn't. Not only did her entire crew believe her, but she managed to convince a turian, a quarian, an asari, and even a krogan of the same thing. I saw how vocally they defended her afterward. Nobody is that accomplished a liar."

Hackett seemed to understand completely. "I knew her for some time. Used her on several high risk assignments. She always got the job done, no matter what it called for. She could be subtle and diplomatic when she needed to be. She could also be the hammer of a vengeful god when that was needed. She was David Anderson's protege, and I've known him for decades. He and I both agreed on one thing. She had many many quirks in that complicated mind, but one thing she did not have was ego. She got the job done and moved on. She didn't bask in the limelight, or demand praise after doing her job. Hell, I watched that interview with her on the Citadel two years ago. I can honestly say that the only people she liked less than slavers were reporters. So when I heard the charge that she made up the story about the Reapers to drum up fear so she could draw out her fantasy of being the big hero a bit longer, I nearly puked in my soup. Believe me, when she made her report on the Reapers known, I believed her. Still do."

"That's good to know," Kynaston said. "That's why I've been compiling an intelligence report on the Reapers for the last two years."

Hackett almost dropped his own glass. "You've been compiling a report? For two years? I can't imagine the Alliance would ever agree to that."

Kynaston smiled, a hint of mischief about him. "As long as I use my own resources and keep it quiet, the brass doesn't seem to give a tuppenny damn what I do. Sometimes, there are perks to being a pariah in your own job. I put together an attack profile, using her own report and a few contacts I've made. The results aren't pretty. If you take everything into account, the origin point of the Citadel, to the power that _Sovereign _alone possessed, to the numbers of Reapers she estimated to exist, and the end result is always the same. Everybody dies. So, yes. I keep gathering what intell I can, and I keep preparing for the worst. Fighting the good fight and all."

"I'm sure she would appreciate that." Hackett put his cap back on. "About this missing weapons designer. Something about this makes me nervous. Do you have any idea where we might start looking?"

Kynaston nodded. "If he was contacting somebody out in the Terminus Systems, there's really only one place it could be."

Hackett knew instantly. "Omega."

"Spot on. It's as they say. Everybody who wants to hide goes to Omega eventually."

"Listen, Billy. I know you don't have official authorization to send an actual team to Omega, but I'd still like to have it investigated. Do you think you can do that? Off the books."

Kynaston scratched his chin. "I know some folks there. I could have them take a shufti, see what they can find out."

"I appreciate that. Keep me informed of what you find. The sooner we find out, the better. And good luck with your other project. I'm sure she would be grateful."

Kynaston raised his glass. "To Lilitu Shepard."

Hackett raised his own glass. "May she forgive the galaxy for turning its back on her."

"Chin chin."

**The Citadel**

Lieutenant Commander Niveas Lucultus figured that if there was one universal thing that truly united every civilized species in the galaxy, it wasn't music, philosophy, sex, or even war. No, the one thing that seemed to be the same everywhere in the galaxy was waiting in line. The flight from Palaven to the Citadel had been pleasant enough, but trying to get through customs and security was rapidly becoming an ordeal in and of itself. Dozens of weary travelers of all species were enduring a very long line that was getting longer by the moment. There was muted muttering and cursing, that Niveas could easily tell was getting louder as time went on. A lot of the annoyance was focused on the glaring incompetence of the C-Sec officials in charge of the customs desk. Niveas found that amusing. Sure, it had to be some incompetence. But she had long ago suspected that lines were there for a reason, especially in government controlled areas. People needed to feel the bureaucracy, see it around them, remind them who was in charge. And the best way to make people feel the bureaucracy was to make them wait in line.

While everyone else kept checking the time or shifting the position of baggage, Niveas used the the wait to take in her surroundings. It had been more than two years since the last time she had set foot on the Citadel, just before the geth attack. There were a lot of new sights and smells, and Niveas tried to take in as much as she could. The first thing she noticed was the increased security. The C-Sec presence was twice what she remembered from before, and a lot of extra security checkpoints had been set up along the main entryways. The second thing she noticed was the increased number of human C-Sec officers. Sure, there had been many back before Battle of the Citadel, but now, their numbers appeared to have grown exponentially. _Makes sense. Lose eight cruisers to save the lives of a Council that had treated them like children for thirty years, and the least you could do was hire more of them to keep watch over the gates. _Niveas did think that granting the humans a Council seat was a bit much, but she wasn't a politician.

"Next."

Niveas' attention came back to reality as the customs officer waved her over. She stepped briskly up to the security desk, meeting the gaze of the young human female C-Sec officer in charge of customs. The human was young, still in her twenties.

"Name, please."

Niveas had to suppress a laugh. _A turian, wearing officer black armor, with the red and gold stripes of Hierarchy CID stands before you with name and rank clearly visible, and you ask for a name?_ The human was definitely a rookie, regurgitating the standard security questions without actually knowing whether or not they were relevant. She couldn't blame the human too much. _I was just like her, years ago. _

"Niveas Lucultus."

The C-Sec agent typed it into her console. "Reason for visit?"

She barely had time to get the sentence out before the console pinged her. She looked down, her eyes suddenly widening. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant Commander Lucultus. I didn't realize..." She instantly straightened up, her tone becoming much more respectful. "I've been instructed to inform you that Executor Chellick has requested your immediate attention. You need to report to the Presidium immediately. It's through-"

"I've been there before. I know the way."

Niveas walked away without another word. She knew that security officers had to start from somewhere, same as any other profession. But guarding a place as vitally important as the Citadel? This was not the place to start rookies. Still, it wasn't her call to make, so no need to waste mental energy worrying about it.

After several more checkpoints and security scanners, she finally got into the Citadel proper. She was surprised to see a human C-Sec captain when she passed through. She had an appointment to keep, but she did allow her eyes to rest on him for just a split second. But in that second, she got quite a profile on the Captain. This human was most definitely not a rookie. She could tell that this human had seen quite a bit during his tenure, if the deep lines in his face were any indication. _Okay, at least a few worthwhile people then._

Minutes later, as the elevator took her up to the Presidium, Niveas once again found herself thinking about the reason she was here. It had happened so quickly that she scarcely had time to think about it. Her Commanding Officer on Palaven called her into his office and told her that she was to report to the Citadel as quickly as possible. An hour later, she was on a commercial flight from Palaven to the Citadel, still with no idea why she had been ordered to do so. Even now, moments away from a meeting with the head of Citadel Security, she was completely at a loss. And Niveas hated feeling that way. She was an investigator, CID through and through. It was her job to to know what was going on around her, or do her damnedest if she didn't know. A dozen scenarios had already gone through her mind, none of them standing up to her own mental scrutiny. As the elevator finally arrived at the Presidium, Niveas realized that she was going to have to go into this meeting uninformed.

As the door to the Executor's office opened, Niveas reflected on the last time she had been here. It was just after _Sovereign'_s attack on the Citadel two years ago. Back then, she had burst in, desperate for information about her mother. At the time, the office was in shambles, and the old Executor nowhere to be found. As she entered this time, things were much different. The whole area had been rebuilt, and the office looked like it had just been completed. The decor was still utilitarian in style, typical of a turban officer. Seated behind the desk was Executor Chellick, white facepaint locked into an impassive stare. He regarded the barefaced female for a quick moment before he spoke up.

"_Lieutenant Commander Lucultus, welcome to the Citadel. I apologize for the cloak and dagger air about this, but this is a very sensitive matter."_

"_It's no problem, sir," _she said locking her hands behind her back, her voice keeping respectfully inferior-to-superior.

"_I wish we had more time to bring you up to speed, but we're going to need you to get started on this immediately." _Chellick steepled his clawed fingers. _"What I'm about to tell you is highly classified. __Council Level secrecy. We can't have any of this come out before the time is right. Do I make myself clear?"_

Niveas remained still as a statue. _"Perfectly, sir."_

Chellick nodded. _"Good. Does the name Nashara Tashaeis mean anything to you?"_

Niveas opened up her mental archive, the organized place in her mind where she stored away the facts and information accumulated over her lifetime. It was a technique her mother had taught her years ago, a way to organize her memories for optimal retrieval. It took only a moment for her to find the name.

"_The vice-president of Stellar Dynamics on Illium. I've heard the name."_

"_That's the one. Approximately seventeen hours ago, she was found dead in her apartment. Beyond that, Illium police are keeping a tight lid on the crime scene and the story. You've been selected to lead the investigation."_

That was not what Niveas expected to hear. _"Me? I'm CID. Illium is not even close to CID's jurisdiction. Not even in the jurisdiction of the Hierarchy. Why would the Asari Republics ask for a turian to lead a murder investigation on one of their own colonies?"_

"_Between you and me Commander, I have no idea." _Chellick's mandible twitched in annoyance. _"To me, this whole thing reeks of political s'kak." _He put his palms up._ "But, when the Council personally sends a request for an outside agent to investigate a crime inside Council space, I don't ask a lot of questions. I do my job, same as you."_

Niveas still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her crop. _"Why not just send someone from C-Sec? This sounds like something my mother would take up for fun. I'm sure she would jump at the opportunity."_

"_Senior Detective Lucultus would have been my first choice. Unfortunately, she's on administrative leave for the next few days due to the shooting."_

Niveas' eyes widened. _"Shooting? What are you talking about?"_

It was Chellick's turn to look surprised. _"You mean...you didn't know?"_

Her discipline had vanished, fear-anger taking its place. "_What happened?"_

Chellick saw that Niveas was coming slightly unhinged and was quick to respond. "_She was responding to a robbery down on the Wards. She wasn't even on duty, just going back to her apartment. The suspect ran right passed her, and she immediately gave chase. She caught up to him near the Wards Access Tunnel. She challenged him, and he turned and fired off a shotgun blast. It hit her squarely in the shoulder. She was still wearing her armor, Spirits be praised. She returned fire, taking out his weapon and his arm. I assure you, her wounds are minor. But as you well know, there is mandatory leave for any officer involved in a shooting."_

Niveas felt her pulse slowing down, especially after knowing that her mother was going to be alright. But that didn't do anything for the indignation she felt over her mother not bothering to inform her daughter that she'd been shot. _What was she thinking? How could she not tell me? _

With effort, she was able to regain her composure. _"I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't aware of her injury. Do I at least have time to see her, before I leave?"_

Chellick nodded. "_The ship doesn't leave for another three hours. Take that time and use it how you want. However, once you are on that ship, I need you working the case. You were chosen because you share what your mother has. She sees things in ways most are incapable of. In my thirty years on the job, I have never seen a better investigator than Aledas Lucultus._ _And from what your_ _CO on Palaven has told me, you share your mother's ability. He told me that you have solved cases with almost no solid evidence. That's what I want from you. Once you hit planet-side on Illium, the local police have been instructed to give you whatever assistance you need. Remember, you don't just speak for CID on this one. You speak for the Council. Any questions?"_

Truthfully, Niveas had about a thousand questions she would prefer to have answered immediately. But she knew that no answers would be forthcoming. So, she kept her worries to herself.

"_None sir."_

"_Good. Spirits keep you safe, Commander." _

Unsurprisingly, the closer Niveas got to her mother's apartment, the more she felt her worry and tension easing. The trip had given her plenty of time to start asking herself questions about her mother's motives for keeping the injury secret. First, it was a shotgun blast at less than optimal range. Second, her mother had been in armor at the time. That alone told her that the injury couldn't have been life-threatening. Third, if the injury had been serious, then her mother or her mother's partner would have sent a communication. And finally, Niveas remembered that her mother had once said that injury was just part of the job. If it wasn't serious, then there was no point in making a huge fuss about it. And if there was one thing her mother truly excelled at, it was not making a fuss.

By the time she got to her mother's door, Niveas wasn't even thinking about the injury. She was thinking what insight her mother could shed on this sudden secretive assignment. In fact, she was hoping that the conversation would skip the pleasantries and get right to business. But she knew that wouldn't be an option. Aledas Lucultus was very much a social animal, and there was no one she liked to talk to more than her two children. The problem was that Niveas had some actual questions she wanted her mother to answer. To get to the questions, she knew that she would have to talk to her mother about unrelated topics first. It was one of the traits that made her mother so good at being an investigator. She could always tell when someone had an agenda. That included her own children.

Niveas was about to reach for the door intercom when the door's lock clicked off. She couldn't help but grin at that. _Figures. Someone in C-Sec must have seen me entering Chellick's office. Leave it to my mother to know exactly how long it takes to reach her apartment from anywhere on the Citadel._

With the fact that her mother knew she was there quite clear, Niveas just walked in. She was immediately struck by how little her mother's apartment had changed over the years. Aledas had procured it after Niveas and her second-brother Aulus had moved to the Citadel more than thirty years ago. And in all that time, nothing had changed. The same furniture, the same decorations, the same everything. And as the final punctuation mark on the complete sameness of the apartment was Aledas Lucultus herself, sitting at the same desk she had for three decades. Her extranet terminal was open, and she was chatting with somebody over a live video link.

"_Listen, I better go. I think I have visitors at the door. Tell the kids I said hello, and tell your mate I will have her in my thoughts. If you ever need me, just call. Indeed. Goodbye, Gavius."_

Aledus stood up and turned to regard her daughter. Niveas knew that quick look she was getting was the same that she used to get a sense of the minute details of a suspect. Instead of body language, facial tics, and all the other giveaway signs of guilt, her mother was examining her for more personal reasons. _Is she seeing anyone? How is the job? How is her health? Most importantly, is she seeing anyone? _Aledus loved grandchildren, same as any mother. Aulus and his mate had already given her three, and Niveas knew that her mother was impatiently waiting for her to carry on the family mission.

After only a moment of scrutiny, Aledus rushed up to her and clasped Niveas' shoulder. It was a bit ackward, as Aledus still had her right arm in a sling, her shoulder wrapped tightly with medigel packs. If she felt any pain from the injury, she gave no indication of it.

"_Daughter,"_ Aledus cried out happily. _"Look at you! It's been almost two years! How have you been?" _

"_Very well, mother. Thank you." _She looked at her mother's injured arm as if she had no idea. "_I didn't know you had been injured. Domestic accident?"_

"_Don't play coy with me. I know perfectly well that Chellick told you everything. All of the pertinent facts are open and well-known, so no need to discuss it further." _Aledus turned and vanished into her small kitchen. "_Can I get you anything to drink?"_

"_No, thank you mother." _Niveas glanced at the extranet screen. _"That sounded like your old partner."_

"_Gavius Vakarian. Yes, that was him. You remember him?"_

Niveas scoffed. "_Not since you tried to set me up with his son all those years ago."_

"_He seemed like a nice enough young male. I thought you two would get along quite well."_

"_Mother, we had nothing in common with each other. That whole night we sat in silence, until we started talking about how crazy our families were for trying to set us up."_

Aledus poked her head out of the kitchen. "_Can't blame a mother for trying."_

"_Actually, yes I can," _Niveas replied, a hint of a smile on her face. _"That was all your doing. You and your partner."_

"_Perhaps. I also did it as a favor to him. He was the senior officer, I was his junior partner. We figured if our children were involved with each other, it might make the time go by faster on long stakeouts. You know, discuss the kids. Speculate on what they're up to."_

"_That's cold, mother. Using your own daughter to better your career. For shame." _That got a laugh out of both Niveas and her mother. Aledus went back into the kitchen, where the smell of hot _apha _was now wafting through the room. To pass the time until her mother came back, Niveas wandered the living room, trying to see if anything really had changed. The only thing she saw was her mother's aerogel vid screen on pause. Curious, she tapped the console. She was greeted by some human news show. It didn't look like anything that came from the Citadel. She turned up the volume and finally recognized it. It was some news show out of Earth that, (_oh what was the word?) '_satirized' the news of the galaxy. When the human host went to commercial, the show's name came up on the screen.

"_The Daily Show? Mother, how can you watch this s'kak"_

Aledus came out of the kitchen, a cup of _apha_ in her good hand. _"I like it. The show makes the news easier to choke down. If I wanted to watch endless hours of droll reporters telling me in monotone voices how badly this galaxy is going, I would watch the Citadel News Net. With this, I at least get to laugh."_

"_I didn't know you went for human jokes. When did this happen?"_

"_It's not just humans. You know they have an elcor and a salarian on the show as well?"_

Niveas shook her head. "_No turian would degrade themselves like that."_

"_Are you sure," _Aledus asked in the tone of voice she reserved for when she knew something no one else did. Niveas took the verbal bait and waited for the show to come back on. The human host started in on a story about a big raid the Hierarchy Fleet carried out against a large pirate pack in the Traverse. She watched until the host brought out...

"_They have a futtari TURIAN on the show?"_ Niveas continued to watch, morbid curiosity driving her. She watched as the turian was introduced. _"Senior Violence Corespondent?"_

Her mother took a sip of _apha. _"_Who says humans don't understand us?"_

Niveas smirked. _"Am I going to become like you when I get older, mother?"_

Aledus ran a finger across her daughter's forehead. _"Only if you're lucky, daughter."_

Niveas found she was actually beginning to feel at ease. Not that she ever felt uncomfortable around her mother. Quite the contrary. They were as close as any turian family could be. It was just that the apartment tended to remind her of...more unpleasant times. _Forget that. Remember the other reason you're here._

"_Listen mother, I need to ask you something." _She figured enough time had gone by chatting about mundane things. Her mother was probably ready for the real issue. _"I'm being sent by CID and the Council to investigate a murder on Illium. I can't imagine why they picked me, of all people, to go to a crime scene so far out of our jurisdiction. I wanted to know if you had any idea why I was chosen?"_

"_Good question," _her mother said, her tone becoming thoughtful. _"Who would they normally send?"_

And this was the moment Niveas had been waiting for. The Game. It was something the Lucultus family had done for many years, and was one of the reasons why Niveas had developed her mother's ability to see things most did not. It had all started when Niveas was only five. She had lost a favorite toy, and had gone running to her mother practically exploding with rage and grief. She begged her mother to help her look for it. Instead of searching, her mother asked her a question. _Where did you remember putting it last?_ Niveas had answered, but that only led to another question. _How small is it?_ Each question led to another one. Eventually, after about ten questions, she realized where the toy had to be. She raced to the spot and sure enough, found her toy. She ran back and showed it off like it was some animal she had caught all on her own. And this became what Niveas called the Game. Whether it was a lost toy, a misplaced book, or a tough homework assignment, Aledus would never give a direct answer. She would instead ask questions until Niveas got the answer herself. As she got older, Niveas found that she eventually could start asking the questions to herself and get the answer. It was a technique she had used for decades now. But no matter how many times she did it, having her mother start it off always got better results.

She considered her mother's question. _"Who would they normally send? Illium Planetary Police."_

Aledus took another sip. _"Good. And who would process the the crime scene?"_

"_IPP detectives."_

Aledus nodded. _"So, why wouldn't they want Illium detectives investigating the case?"_

At that point, Niveas took off on her own. _"Why wouldn't they? Competent detectives. Most of them asari, so centuries of investigative experience. Victim was high Illium society. Want this resolved, avoid bad press. No, no word on murder made public yet. Not a widely known event. Still makes no sense to bring in outside aide."_

Aledus tapped her cup with the tip of her claw. _"What do you bring to the investigation?"_

Another good question. _"Unique eye, techniques not often seen outside CID. Military training. Better senses than asari."_

Aledus tapped the glass faster. _"What do the asari have that you don't?_

"_More experience. Already mentioned that." _Niveas was pacing the room, her gait suddenly very animated, each step almost in time with her mother's tapping. _"Know the planet, know the neighborhoods. Know the people better. Most have well developed biotics, useful for..."_

Niveas suddenly stopped pacing, right at the same instant that Aledus stopped tapping the cup. _"I think __you have it from here."_

Niveas felt a shudder go through her body, the feeling she got whenever a clue that had proved elusive for so long finally clicked into place.

"_They have biotics. All asari detectives train to use it. And standard asari interrogation procedures, at least with other asari, involve some level of joining minds. And any incriminating evidence is known to the detectives. So even if the case file is locked away, the investigating detective still has those secrets in their mind. So..." _Niveas finally turned back to look at Aledus. _"They're afraid that Nashara Tashaeis might have some dark secrets that no one wants becoming known to somebody who can take it right out of the mind."_

"_I think Chellick warned you about the possible sensitivity of this case." _Aledus downed the rest of her _apha_. _"Take the warning seriously. Do your best, see things like I know you can. You'll do fine. And remember what I told you the day you entered CID. Watch your back. Always."_


	3. Chapter 3: Investigations

**Illium**

If there was one thing that Illaris Vaelos appreciated more than anything else, it was the power and beauty of the art of distraction. For him, the trick of it was to put up a shield that blocked out all of the inconvenient realities that kept trying to get his attention. If he couldn't see those realities, they effectively didn't exist. Rent on his tiny apartment hundreds of feet above the surface of Illium two weeks past due? Just change the IP address on the extranet account and all those annoying rent notices just seemed to disappear. Bland reality of knowing that he was a salarian doomed to die at forty, most likely long before he accomplished half the things on his "do before death" itinerary? Just file away the damned list into a scarcely used corner of his mind and, suddenly, the list never even happened. The turian that lived next door complaining that Illaris was playing his Expel 10 album at ridiculous volume all hours of the night? Just crank the volume even louder and soon, not only was the neighbor's incoming calls drowned out, but even the angry pounding on the door when he got fed up and tried to confront Illaris directly were swallowed up in the noise. Indeed, in his nine years of life, Illaris had become a veritable guru on the art of distraction.

Despite all of the techniques he had developed to block out the harsh reality of the galaxy, there was one distraction that had proved more enjoyable than all the others. That was his long running Galaxies of Fantasy account. Illaris had started playing when he was only five, and had never looked back. The game deeply appealed to Illaris' nature. Every salarian loved a good puzzle, and trying to figure out strategies and tactics needed to succeed in the thousands of dungeons and instances allowed for many hours of deep, distracting thought. And with the speed the game seemed to put out new content, Illaris knew that the chances of him running out of new activities to do in the game were infinitesimally small. So most of his waking twenty three hours of the day involved him seated in front of his private terminal, or soaking in the heated pool in the middle of the living room with his other terminal, both of which had access to his GoF account.

At the moment, he was in his pool, logging on for the first time in the day. Despite his preference to being on the game most of the time, he actually had business that needed attending to that morning. Some of the realities of life couldn't be ignored forever, and there were outstanding bills that had to be paid. And doing that had made some of the other realities seep in, including some painfully unpleasant ones. By paying those bills, Illaris had been forced to look at the numbers in his personal credit account. Even with his uncle's modest inheritance, the account had never been particularly large. But after months of being unable to do any meaningful jobs, that account had dwindled to the point of being depressing. The last thing Illaris wanted to do was have that reality stuck in his brain like a piece of arterial plaque. He needed an avenue of release, and only one thing could fit the bill.

"Galaxies of Fantasy," he grinned, crinkling his eyes in anticipation. "Get ready to work your dark magic."

First thing he did, like always, was to go through his contacts list to see who happened to be online at the moment. First rule of GoF was to know who you were playing with. Not that Illaris wasn't open to joining random groups. Many of his favorite cohorts on the game were met via a random dungeon with a random group. But there were personal favorites that made the time online that much more enjoyable. Eyes intent on the aerogel screen before him, he flipped through the hundreds of players who were online.

"Let's see. No, that guy has a mate. Probably have to go do some stupid errand in the middle of the raid. She's good, but it's almost noon. Probably drunk by now." He flipped through the list a bit faster. "That guy's a total cloaca. Note to self. Send him a really annoying virus through the in-game messaging." The scrolling came to a sudden stop when he saw one particular name on the list. "Hello, what have we here? I think today just got fun." He strapped on his personal headset. "Let the games begin."

Illaris tapped a button on his console, sending out a comm channel request. Moments later, a young human female voice came through the headset.

"Whisper! Nice to see you on!"

Illaris grinned. "Epona, it's been too long." Illaris knew her name by looking up her profile on GoF, and he was pretty sure that she knew his. But in all their conversations on the game, they only ever used their avatar names. He opened a small window below the game screen. "It's almost seven in the evening on Earth. You're on a bit late, aren't you?"

"Dad gave me a little extra time before my chores start tonight." There was a brief pause. Illaris could almost imagine her smiling at this point, even though he had no idea what she looked like. "So, still sitting on a lillypad in your pond, little froggy?"

"I think we've been through that. The only flora I keep in here is too small to sit on. And how's all that hair working out for you, little monkey?"

There was a small laugh from the headset. "Hey, it takes time to make my hair look good. You wouldn't believe all the crazy things heat and humidity do to it. Texas in the summer? Sometimes I look like I've just put my finger in a power coupling."

"My mind is working overtime, trying to make a visual of that. If only I could share with you the fruit of my brain's labor. Surely, the image would be the stuff of legends. Perhaps I could write an in-depth article on the various effects that weather and water vapor could have on the keratin follicles atop the cranium of the average talking monkey"

Epona laughed again, although Illaris was sure there was a hint of confusion. It was another moment that he had to remind himself that even though he knew Epona was ten years old, a full year older than himself, she was mentally still a child. Well, many of his acquaintances would argue that Illaris was still mentally a child, but only in as much as a level of maturity. He knew he was the human equivalent of an eighteen year-old. Many of those same acquaintances thought that it was unusual for a salarian of his age to be wasting his time on an extranet game like GoF, as well as chatting with a human girl that was mentally almost half his age. His reaction had been the same every time the subject was brought up. _Go fuck yourself. Admittedly_, Illaris had little Epona to thank for that. Not that she had said those words to him. That had come from another another player who had gotten a little upset upon dying in a raid. Illaris was quite impressed at the sheer volume of obscenity that a fifteen year old male human seemed to have in his verbal arsenal. After telling off the entire party with some words that seemed to defy comprehension, Illaris had asked Epona what exactly those words meant. She directed him to an extranet site that was all about swearing in human languages. He decided that _go fuck yourself _just had a pleasing aesthetic, both verbally and in the image of the actual act the phrase implied. In the almost twelve months he had been playing with her, Illaris had learned more about xeno-psychology than in any of the classes he had attended in his life.

Illaris realized he had been lost in thought and quickly recovered. "So, what are you up to right now?"

"Nothing, just wandering the Bloody Mesa, hunting for reagents. You have something in mind?"

"How soon till your dad calls you away?"

"Shouldn't be too long." Another pause. "We could do something quick."

Illaris ran down the catalog of dungeons in his mind. After years of playing, he had committed every one of them to memory. From the difficulty, to the size, to the bosses, to the treasure. He had them all perfectly visualized.

"How about the Soul Vault? At least the first part. I'm pretty sure we could at least get as far as the first battle with Ugoth Vozz. Maybe even loot some of the soul fragments he drops. You got enough healing packs, right?"

Epona scoffed. "What kind of healer to you take me for? I'm not some noob, fresh on the game. Of course I have enough."

Illaris raised his hands in mock apology. "I'm sorry, oh Font of Resurrection! Forgive this humble fool for doubting your mighty powers of healing. I shall go on a vision quest to purge the specter of doubt from my poor mortal mind."

"You are such a drama queen," Epona laughed. "Can we please get in queue for this? I've got a little extra time, but I've still got chores to do."

Illaris cleared his throat. "Just remember, this is at least a three man team. We've got to get another cohort on board."

"Gah. I know. Let's just hope it's quick."

Unfortunately, the cruel and angry gods of the gaming world decided not to shine upon them. Minutes clicked by without anyone else joining on. Illaris soon found his mind wandering, leading to about a dozen computer program ideas for new content for the GoF. Eventually he realized that he had time to plan a strategy for the Soul Vault raid, start a system check on his terminal, plan what he was going to have for dinner, take a long look around the sparse apartment and realize that he hardly owned anything. When he checked the on-board clock, he found that three minutes had come and gone. A very long time for a salarian. _Okay, the distractions are starting to fade. Reality might set in. Plan B; small talk._

"So," Illaris said, hoping to break up the monotony. "How goes the whole animal husbandry thing?"

"Fine. One of the mares is pregnant. We were hoping that would take for almost a month."

"Does that mean the copulation was successful?"

Epona groaned. "Yes, my dear frog. The miracle of life occurred yet again. Does this surprise you?"

"Of course not," Illaris said with complete sincerity. "I looked up some footage of the act on the extranet. I have only one word to say on the subject. Impressive."

Epona exploded into laughter. After a few seconds, so did Illaris. He couldn't help it. Her laughter was addictive, as he had discovered over the time he had been playing with her. She had done her level best to describe to him the reality of living on a farm. It was an environment that Illaris couldn't even imagine. He had lived on Illium since only a few weeks after his hatching. He had never ventured any further than Nos Astra that entire time, and had in fact spent most of that time in this very apartment. Illaris didn't like to venture outside. His uncle Keehar had left the apartment quite often, always on "business." And that didn't turn out...

_No, no. Dwelling on reality again. None of that._

Luckily, it was at that moment that the gaming gods decided to stop messing with them. Another player had just joined the group. Illaris was about to greet the new player when he happened to take a gander at the new player's name. _Malleolus? Probably some thirteen year old turian boy. Oh good, he literally named himself Sledgehammer. We are dealing with a true mental colossus now. _That thought took less than a second. He hoped that the new player didn't notice the long pause.

"Hey welcome aboard!" Illaris decided that diplomacy was the best option here. "Good to have you aboard. Looks like we can get this party started."

Epona was just as pleased to be getting started. "Well, looks like we can go on and..."

"Listen up," Malleolus blurted out. "Just keep quiet and follow my lead. I've done this run a hundred times, so I know what I'm doing. And from the sounds of the healer there, she's probably your little sister or something. Just try to keep her doing her job. If I die on this because she's off playing with dolls or something, we are going to have words. Now, here's how this is going to happen..."

Illaris was stunned. At first, he couldn't believe what this cloaca had just said. Some pre-pubescent turian brat who already thought he was the Imperator, coming down from on high to lead the unwashed masses to victory. But then the absurdity of it all hit him. He actually thought Epona and I are brother and sister. He really couldn't tell the difference between a human and a salarian. Every fiber in his being wanted to burst out laughing for the sheer stupidity he was witnessing before him. But a calm head prevailed, as a new plan took shape. We switched to a private message addressed to Epona alone.

**What do you think of this guy?**

_A total jerk._

**I say we mess with him. You with me?**

_Lol. I'm with you. What do you have in mind?_

**Just follow my lead.**

Illaris waited while the verbal diarrhea continued to dribble out of Malleolus' mouth. Useless strategies, pointless group formations, and information about the dungeon available on any extranet site that he thought was "brilliant insight." Finally, there was a pause in the diatribe. At that moment, Illaris made his move.

"Yes, that all sounds like brilliant strategy. I'm sure that armed with this, nothing in this galaxy can stop us." He reached for the bowl of raw snails sitting next to his terminal. "Say, Epona. This snack you turned me on to is fantastic. What did you call it again? Cheese?"

"Yup, that's it." Illaris could tell by the tone of voice that Epona knew exactly what he had in mind. "Cheddar to be precise. Really good stuff."

"You are right about that." He sucked one of the snails down. "Oh my! That is just divine!"

"Will you two stop screwing around," Malleolus said, irritation very obvious in his voice. "I'd like to get through this before I have to report to boot camp in three years!"

"Sorry," Illaris said with a hint of exaggeration. "I just can't help it. This cheese is just so good. Epona dear, what did you say this was made of?"

"Milk."

Apparently, Malleolus knew exactly what milk was. "Ugh. That's disgusting. Why would you..."

Illaris went on. "Yes, this is a milk product. Isn't there something else added to this?"

Epona didn't miss a beat. "Oh, yes. To make cheese, you have to let the milk rot a little. The milk has to be moldy for the cheese to taste right."

Malleolus made some gagging noises. Illaris pressed the attack on. "Moldy lactate? It's amazing what they can do. And what kind of animal does this milk come from?"

"A cow. A very large herd animal. The milk comes from a large sack that hangs between the rear legs."

"I see," Illaris said, affecting the voice of an academic who just discovered a vital piece of information. "And how close is this sack to the waste disposal opening?"

"Oh, it only hangs about sixteen inches from that. How do you think it got that yellow color?"

In that instant, Malleolus logged off. Illaris had to believe that the turian brat had to go take care of some urgent business in the bathroom. Vomit business.

Epona was laughing again. "You don't think we went too far on that, do you?"

"It was war. In war, you do what you have to do. I would think a turian would understand that more than anyone."

Over the headset, Illaris could hear an older male's voice come through. "Hey kiddo. Game time's over. The stables need your attention."

"Be right there, dad. I was just telling off an obnoxious turiankid by describing cheddar cheese."

"I see," her father's voice said over the chat line. "And what did he do to deserve that?"

"He thought he was God's gift to gamers, and thought that I was a salarian's sister."

"Technically, that would make you a dalatrass. . . ," Illaris muttered.

"A what?"

"Nevermind."

"That's my girl. But seriously, time for chores."

"I'm coming, Dad. Gotta go, Wisp. See you on later."

"Have fun slinging animal dung." With that, Epona logged off. They didn't get to go on the actual run, but good times were had all around. Truth be told, Illaris found the whole idea of cheese to be equally revolting. But he had learned to use stuff like that to his advantage. Even if it was just to make an annoying turian have to vomit. It was all part of his philosophy. Have fun wherever and however you can.

He was about to put in a search for another raid when his door buzzer went off. He looked up, eyes crinkling in confusion. People almost never came to his door. Most of his interactions with the outside galaxy occurred online. The only time anyone came to his door with regular frequency, it was the delivery guy who brought his groceries. He had gotten this weeks delivery three days ago. Illaris was wary, but curious enough to see who it was. He climbed out of his pool, putting on his robe with the GoF logo on the back. He had seen it while clicking through the list of Galaxies of Fantasy swag on their site. He liked the look enough to blow twenty credits on it. He strode across the length of his tiny living room, tapping the security console as soon as he got to the door. The screen flickered to life, showing a tall human in a long dark coat. Illaris was quite sure he had never seen this person before. He was big, at least six and a half feet tall. From the looks of him, he had to weigh close to two hundred and fifty pounds, none of which was fat. He had short blond hair, and his eyes were covered by dark glasses. Despite the fact he couldn't see the human's eyes, he had an overall dangerous quality to him that Illaris found unnerving.

Illaris hit the intercom button. "Uh, yes? Can I help you?"

The human leaned in to the intercom. "I'm looking for Whisper."

Illaris swallowed hard. Whisper was actually his uncle's old STG codename. Illaris had been using it as his online moniker for a long time. At first, it was just because he liked the sound of it. Later, as he learned what his uncle did, it became a symbol of respect. In fact, Uncle Keehar had been quite proud that his nephew had taken up the name. But that was before...

Illaris shook his head, banishing the thoughts. "Uh, he's not here right now."

"You Illaris, the nephew?"

Illaris felt a hint of panic wash over him. Not many people would equate the STG agent named Whisper to Keehar Valois and his nephew, Illaris Vaelos. Some STG members would know, certainly. But there was no way this human would be related to STG. Still, Illaris was sure that asking whether or not he was the nephew to Whisper was a rhetorical question. The human probably knew exactly who lived here. Knowing that lying would probably be a wasted endeavor, he decided to go with the truth.

"I am."

"My name is John Troy. I worked with your uncle on several occasions. Right now, I have need of a hacker. Can I assume that you can help me?"

"Look, that might be a problem..."

Troy pressed on. "Can I come in?"

That question was surprising. If this Troy was a professional, as he seemed to be, then he could have easily bypassed the lock and walked right in. But he was asking permission. That seemed to convey a sense of, if not respect, then courtesy. On that alone, Illaris decided that this human wasn't there to kill him.

"Sure," Illaris sighed. "Come in."

Illaris turned off the security screen and unlocked the door. As soon as the door slid open, Illaris found himself standing face to face with the mysterious Mr. Troy. Well, more like face to chest. Illaris was a full foot shorter than the human, and about a hundred and thirty pounds lighter. They looked at each other for a few moments before Illaris gestured into the apartment.

"Well, welcome to my abode. Excuse the mess, but I don't have people over here much. Or ever."

Troy stepped wordlessly into the apartment. As Illaris closed the door behind him, he watched as Troy began taking in the apartment. He seemed to be getting a complete layout of the room, all the angles, all the best places to hid, to mount an ambush. Illaris knew he was doing this, because he had observed his uncle Keehar do the same thing every time they entered a new place. The last time he had seen it was in the restaurant his uncle took him to on Illaris' sixth birthday.

As Troy did a complete tactical scan of the living room, Illaris decided to break the silence. "So, you knew my uncle?"

Troy didn't answer right away. He continued his observation for several more seconds, getting the complete floor plan of the living room. When he finished, he turned his attention to Illaris. "I do. I worked with him on a few assignments. Freelance work, mainly."

"My uncle talked about his work with me a few times," Illaris said, fidgeting slightly. "I think he wanted me to follow him into the job. He never mentioned a human named John Troy before."

"Your uncle knew me as Revenant."

Illaris did a double take. That name almost certainly rang a bell. Uncle Keehar had mentioned working with a mercenary named Revenant almost two years ago. Something about slavers working out of the Attican Traverse. Keehar and his partner were supposed to find the base the slavers were working out of. Once the base had been located, they were supposed to use an untraceable source to take the base out. Uncle Keehar mentioned that the source was a freelance mercenary known only as Revenant. When seven year old Illaris asked what happened next, Keehar would only say "Let's just say that no one will be using that base ever again."

"Revenant? As in, the same Revenant that helped my uncle destroy a slaver base out in the Traverse two years ago."

Troy nodded. "That's right. I was hoping to find your uncle. I have something I need from him. Do you know where he is?"

Illaris sighed. He didn't like to be reminded. "Uh, I guess you didn't hear. Keehar Vaelos was...killed in action. A little more than three months ago."

Troy's face remained an emotionless mask. "I didn't know. What happened?"

"Well, that's the thing. The STG won't tell me what happened. They would only say that he died nobly, in service to the Union. Apparently, there wasn't even a damned body. Nothing that I could even commit to the oceans of Sur'Kesh, as he always wanted. Nothing!"

Troy remained still. "I see. Sorry to hear that. Then maybe you could help me."

"What?" Illaris almost choked. "Look, I don't want anything to do with the fucking STG, or anything else to do with those who work for them. So, if there's nothing else, would you kindly get the fuck out of here?" The last sentence was said with a bit more courage than Illaris actually felt.

Troy took a few steps closer to Illaris, until he loomed over him. Despite the anger, Illaris did feel himself cringing at the invasion of his space.

"You think I would come here to bring a child into a mission?"

"Well, no..."

"What I need was your uncle's specialty." He reached into his coat. For a split second, Illaris thought the human was going to bring a pistol out. Instead, he pulled out a large data storage device.

"I need the information on this device decrypted. Your uncle primarily functioned as a data tech. I ask you to do this, because your uncle told me that you were better than he was at the age of four."

_My uncle told you that? _"Look, I can't just..."

Troy shoved the device into Illaris' hand. A moment later, he pulled a credit chit out of another pocket. "There's a hundred twenty five thousand on here. Get that information decrypted, and I'll double it."

Illaris' eyes went wide. He was offering a quarter of a million credits. That would get him out of this apartment. Get him some badly needed equipment. But if he did this...

"I'm sorry. I can't do it," he said, handing the chit back.

Troy didn't take it. "Why not?"

"Look, it's not that I don't want to. I can't. If they find me doing work for anyone else but them..."

Troy crossed his arms. "What are you talking about?"

"My uncle did some freelance work on his own. I never knew, but in addition to STG and taking care of me, my uncle loved to bet on gladiatorial fights. Problem was, he had no talent in picking winners. So he did work on the side. Illegal work, for some dangerous people. After he died, some representatives of his last client came by the apartment and told me that I now worked for them. They said my uncle's debt was now mine. As long as I owe them, they said I couldn't do work for anyone but them."

Troy continued to stare. "Who is this person?"

Illaris looked away. "Trenus Isserius. A turian 'businessman' with links to the Blue Suns. He says he owns me. At the rate he pays me for my work, I won't be paid off in my lifetime. He also says that if I try to do any work on the side, he'll cut my head off with a hand saw."

Troy just nodded. "I'll talk to him. Keep the money, and get to work. I need that information as soon as possible."

Illaris' eyes crinkled again. "You'll talk to him? What the hell do you plan on talking about?"

Troy lowered his sunglasses, giving Illaris a brief glimpse of piercing blue eyes. "I'll appeal to his good nature."

**Niveas, Illium**

Niveas was no stranger to politically sensitive cases. In her nearly fifteen year long career, she had seen everything from the son of a high ranking member of the Dominae who had an unhealthy interest in small children to a salarian Dalatrass who liked to wile away her time with powerful and highly illegal hallucinogenic drugs. She was used to information blackouts, handlers of powerful people trying to wedge themselves into a case, and all of the other s'kak that seemed to come with the job. But this current case made all of her previous career pale into comparison. She first noticed it while she waited on the Citadel for the ship that was to take her to Illium. She had tried to bring up a simple extranet search for Nashara Tashaeis and found that all extranet searches on that subject were being blocked. That alone would be a major red flag. Only highly placed members of the Citadel government could authorize something like that.

It got stranger still after the ship had arrived in the Tasale system. As she had requested in advance, a copy of the current case file was sent to her omnitool as soon as the ship entered normal space. But when Niveas brought the file up, she found that a full three quarters of it had been completely redacted. The file contained no names, no locations, and certainly nothing even remotely resembling a pertinent fact. After perusing the file for only a minute, she had switched off her omnitool in disgust and closed her eyes, running the questions she had already asked herself through her mind. There was no doubt that Nashara had been a powerful person. It was common knowledge that she was the senior vice president of Stellar Dynamics on Illium. But a position like that certainly didn't warrant the security protocols that were already covering the entire case. During the flight from the relay to Illium itself, there were only two things that were clear about the case. The first; there was far more to this than a simple murder of a powerful business magnate. The other was the fact that she wouldn't know anything until after she landed.

As soon as she touched down at the Nos Astra shutlleport, Niveas had a renewed awareness that she had never been to Illium before. All the other passengers on the shuttle seemed to instinctively know where to go as soon as they left the shuttle. Niveas used the time to get a look at her surroundings. It was an automatic response to any new area. Get a lay for the land, know where all the exits and dark corners were. It had saved her life an many occasions, and had been drilled into her from the time she entered boot camp fourteen years ago. It was something Niveas mainly relied on to spot hidden threats and dangers. But occasionally, it also drew her attention to things that were right out in the open. This time, it put her eyes directly on the asari wearing the uniform of the Nos Astra police department who had her gaze fixed on Niveas. As soon as their eyes met, the asari wove her way through the crowd of departing shuttle passengers.

"Commander Lucultus?"

The asari's tone was clipped and professional, and her eyes seemed to hold centuries of dealing with the worst the galaxy had to offer. _Cop eyes, if I've ever seen them._

Niveas nodded. "That's right."

The asari returned the nod. "Detective Araya Layash, Nos Astra Police. We've been waiting for you. My Captain is eager to meet with you."

This was Layash's planet and jurisdiction, so Niveas decided to defer to her judgment for now. "I'm sure she is. Let's get moving.

Minutes later, they were in Layash's aircar, hurtling through the sky traffic over Nos Astra. Niveas was taking in the sights, trying to get a layout of the city. She could see that it would be very easy to get lost at ground level. Besides not knowing even the names of the streets and neighborhoods, this was a city of tens of millions. _For now, best to rely on the locals for transport and navigation._

Detective Layash seemed to know exactly what Niveas was doing. She remained silent, letting the turian get a feel for her surroundings. When it became obvious that Niveas had given up on establishing a sense of orientation, Layash broke the silence.

"I don't think I need to tell you, but this case is being watched by a lot of very powerful people. You've probably already noticed the media and information blackout. As of right now, the most anyone knows is that something big has happened in the city. I'm sure the rumors are already swirling, and the media outlets are on the warpath, each trying to be the first to crack whatever is going on. I've been instructed to take you to the precinct before-"

"Not there," Niveas said, cutting Layash off. "I'm supposed to be in charge of the investigation, and I have yet to even see the crime scene. Take me there."

"You're sure?" Layash glanced in her direction. "You technically supersede Captain Ashala in this. She won't be happy about it. Still, if that's where you want to go first..."

"With all haste, if you please. The longer the crime scene sits, the more likely it is I'll miss something."

Layash shrugged, although Niveas was sure their was a hint of a smirk on the asari's face. "As you wish, Commander." She tapped a switch on the aircar's console. "Sergeant, tell Captain Ashala that I'm taking Commander Lucultus straight to the crime scene. The Commander requests that the Captain meet us at the Sunscape Tower."

A voice crackled over the vehicle's comm system. _"I don't think the Captain's going to like that."_

"Luckily, that's not my call. The Commander wants to go to the crime scene straightaway. Ashala can bitch and moan when she gets there."

Niveas' mandible twitched in amusement. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

Layash shrugged. "Captain Ashala is a cop in name only. Most of the time, she's an employee of the powers that be. It's her job to make sure that none of the little crimes we investigate upset the natural order of things here on Illium. If that means hushing up unpleasant facts from the media, so be it. If that means finding a convenient scapegoat to pin a crime on if, say, a member of the local trade commission managed to give an overdose of aazure dust to a paid young escort? I imagine she wanted to show you her elaborate list of possible suspects before you had a chance to even see the crime scene. This is Illium, Commander. Business as usual."

"Well, as long as we're getting things out in the open," Niveas said, switching on her omnitool. "Maybe you can tell me everything that was redacted from this futtari report. For all that was taken out, this thing may as well have been one of those trashy romance novels like _Forbidden Hearts._"

"I can give you the basic facts," Layash said, turning the aircar into a new lane. "But that's about it. The scene was left mostly untouched, as per the orders from Thessia." She cleared her throat. "A little less than twenty four hours ago, Nashara Tashaeis was found dead in her apartment. Apparent cause of death was...immolation."

That got Niveas' attention. "Someone set her on fire?"

"Yes. Tied her to a chair, doused her in accelerant, and lit her up. It happened at the Sunscape Tower, a ninety story filing cabinet for some of the richest people on Illium. The security there is supposed to be among the best on the planet."

Niveas was using her omnitool to record everything. "How good?"

"I did some checking, and it turns out that a former STG agent put together the current security plan five years ago. His credentials from Sur'Kesh were quite impressive, at least the ones that weren't classified." Layash paused briefly. "The only reason I know this is because there was an incident with this particular salarian around the same time he installed the system."

At this point, she had Niveas' undivided attention. "Go on."

"Five years ago, we got a call about a disturbance at the Sunscape Tower. We got there in time to see this salarian, Larzza I believe the name was, in a very heated argument with the building administrator. By the time we could intervene, he had the administrator in a very tight arm lock, screaming about how he had been cheated out of the fee he had been promised by the building's owners. I have to admit, it was pretty amusing to see this salarian scaring the hell out of all those building security guards. The way he was screaming, I could tell he didn't have a desk job at STG."

"Where is Larzza now?"

"I did some checking after the body was discovered. He had a history of threats against the building's owners, so he was a person of interest for a few hours. He has a rock solid alibi. He's currently on Illium, doing some security consulting with a local information broker. The night of the killing, he was at a dinner meeting with the broker, with over a dozen witnesses verifying that he was there during the whole incident."

Niveas had a plan forming. "Call him. I want him there when I look over the scene. He put the security system together. He might see things I could miss."

"Bring him to the crime scene?," Layash asked, clearly flabbergasted. "Do you have any idea what kind of a shitstorm that would cause?"

"Big enough to keep the whole building staff off balance. Make it harder to stick with any scripted story they might have concocted. There's going to be enough to worry about without having the witnesses making up stories as they go along."

Layash grinned. "You're an easy person to work with, you know that, Commander?"

Niveas could see the Sunscape Tower long before they actually arrived. It was one of the major buildings making up the Nos Astra skyline. Niveas immediately understood that Layash was correct in calling it a ninety story filing cabinet. The whole tower was a masterwork of minimalist design. It was a simply-designed skyscraper with little in the way of flare on the exterior. In fact, from a distance, it would be impossible to distinguish between that building from any other high rise corporate office in the city. That is, until Niveas looked at the top of the building. The top floor consisted of what could only be described as a palace worthy of the Imperator himself. Elegant terraces, a garden with a waterfall, asari statuary, and the obvious steeple of a temple to Athame indicated that whoever lived on the penthouse probably paid enough money for it to finance a good part of the construction costs of a dreadnaught-class ship.

"Did Nashara live in the Imperial Palace on the top floor?" Niveas asked, pointing to the penthouse.

Layash shook her head. "No way. That place belongs to the President and CEO of the Synthetic Insights Corporation. Practically royalty on Illium. Nashara lived about twenty floors below the penthouse on seventy-one."

The aircar touched down outside the lobby of the Sunscape Tower. Niveas counted at least five other Illium Police aircars parked there as well. This looked much more than a simple investigative team. Niveas turned to Layash. "Is this normal?"

"Not in the slightest." Layash seemed to be staring in equal surprise. "Looks like the Captain has prepared a welcome committee for you."

Niveas revised the plan in her head. "I need you to stay in the lobby when I go up."

"Why?"

"When this Larzza arrives, I suspect the Captain will object to his presence in the building. I can override her, but it would be handy if he could be on his way up before it comes to that. If Captain Ashala follows standard procedure, she'll leave patrol officers in the lobby. If you're there, you can authorize him to head up the elevator. By the time the security office reports his presence, he'll be on his way up."

"I can handle it. Though, this might affect my standing in the force. Ashala doesn't like people usurping her authority."

Niveas' mandibles clenched. "You let me worry about that datapad shuffling fatuus. She tries any kind of retribution with her staff, I know some ways to make her life miserable. Trust me."

Getting out of the aircar, Niveas could see Captain Ashala waiting by the door to the building. Even from a good twenty feet away, Niveas could see the look of annoyance locked onto the Captain's face. This was clearly not how the Captain had wanted the initial meeting to go. It was obvious that Detective Layash was correct. Captain Ashala wanted the meeting to happen at the precinct , a place that she could control the meeting and make sure that her theories into the crime were made obvious before Niveas could ever look at the crime scene.

_Time to put on my diplomatic face. _Niveas strode up to the Captain, her attitude now in professional mode. Not quite the cop face. That would be to distant. No, it was a look she had mastered long ago when dealing with people from different jurisdictions. Let them know you are a professional, but don't be too cold. Be available, but keep an appropriate distance.

"Captain Ashala," she said, keeping straight to her diplomatic tone. "Lieutenant Commander Niveas Lucultus, CID. I appreciate you meeting me here under short notice."

"Commander." Niveas could practically feel the cold tone coming out of her. She very clearly did not want to be there. "This is highly irregular. I had a briefing planned at the station. It would be useful to get all the information out in the open before we came all the way out here."

Niveas held her hand up. "As much as I can appreciate that, the very first thing I need to do is to see the crime scene for myself. It is my experience that the longer the scene sits, the more likely it is that vital evidence can be compromised. I want to have your briefing as soon as possible. But above all else, I need to process the scene. Shall we?"

With a short grunt, Ashala turned on her heel and marched into the lobby of the building. Inwardly, Niveas was smirking. It was amazing how much people could give away about their true intentions just by speaking aloud. The first thing she noticed was Ashala had all the indications of a control freak. She clearly liked being in full control of every situation. The current situation had to be grating on her ego. Niveas was a variable that could not be controlled like any other. Ashala had no authority over her, and therefore, could not control her like she could her subordinates in the police force. Second, she already had a theory about the crime, but the fact that she did not want Niveas to see any evidence beforehand showed that it was a theory designed to get rid of the crime as quickly as possible. Oh, Niveas wanted to hear it, but more so she could pick it apart.

As soon as she set foot in the lobby of the Sunscape Tower, Niveas had to gape at the massive fountain that adorned the main entryway. It was massive, at least a good thirty feet in diameter. It had dozens of figures from asari mythology carved from expensive Thessian marble, all locked into classic poses from asari literature. The water flowing forth was accentuated with elaborate holo images and lights to make the figures seem almost alive.

"Do you like our fountain?" said an asari in the uniform of a private security company, standing in the lobby.

Niveas regarded her. "It's a little ostentatious, isn't it?"

"I think it gives the proper message to everyone entering the building." The new asari smiled, a very insincere gesture. "I am Tarraya Sosstra. The chief of security at the Sunscape Tower. You must be the outside agent that has been sent to look into the unfortunate matter at hand."

_How did you know about that? _Sosstra was a civilian, the person in charge of guarding a large residential structure. _How could she know about my arrival? Unless...Ah. The dear security chief just told me everything. She wants this to go away as much as the Captain does. They're working together to make that happen. _Niveas knew not to believe anything Ashala and Sosstra told her.

"I am indeed the outsider, sent to shed some light on your unfortunate problem. So, anything you can tell me about the building and its security system would be most useful."

"I can tell you anything you need to know. I think you will find the security for the building to be quite impregnable."

"We can talk on the way up," Niveas said, turning away from her. "I would like to see this impregnable room for myself."

"Of course." Sosstra led Niveas and Captain Ashala to the main elevator. Niveas was surprised to see only one elevator door. That seemed completely inadequate for a building as large as this one. When the doors opened, she was surprised to find the elevator as spacious as a small convention room. It could accommodate over one hundred people quite comfortably. Still, having just one elevator, even one as big as that, was unusual.

Niveas stepped into the elevator, Sosstra and Ashala following her in. She took note of the fact that they took positions on either side of her. It was a pathetic attempt at intimidation. If she hadn't been such a professional, Niveas might well have laughed. The attempt was so weak, it made her think that these two had never passed basic interrogation techniques. Then she remembered. This was a political police officer and a white collar security guard. They've never had to look into crimes that made it difficult to sleep at night. _You want to intimidate me, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that._

As the elevator began to rise, Niveas began her questioning. "Tell me, why is their only one elevator?"

Sosstra didn't miss a beat. "We actually have two. The main passenger car, and the service elevator. The main car, which we are in now, can easily hold over half of our current tenants."

"How is that possible?"

"Each floor of this building contains one residential unit. We average two to four people per unit. When the main car is combined with the service elevator, we can practically evacuate the whole building in one fell swoop. Of course, we don't ever see a scenario where we'd have to do that."

Niveas scoffed. "You're that confident, are you?"

"Completely." Sosstra seemed to have the whole spiel memorized. _Probably has to give it every time a prospective tenant comes along._

"Then enlighten me. Why so confident?"

"The whole building is designed to be a fortress," Sosstra said, with a hint of a flourish. "Every floor is completely separated from every other. Separate utilities, separate air filtration systems, everything. The only connection between the floors are the elevators. And our control on them is absolute. We monitor their positions within the building at all times. They are under constant surveillance, with video, infrared, and full motion sensors. We monitor the weight of the load on the elevator down to the thousandth of a gram. A fire starting on one floor could never spread to another. Which is meaningless, as our fire suppression systems are the best on the planet."

Niveas started to watch the numbers on the elevator screen rise. "What about anti-intrusion measures?"

"No one can use the elevators without a specially designed keycard, as well as vocal confirmation from the security office below. All cargo brought up the service elevator is scanned down to the molecular level. There is no way that any kind of explosive device, or any kind of Nuclear Biological Chemical agent could be smuggled in here."

Niveas finally turned to look at her, regarding the smug look on her face. "Then if it's so secure, how did one of your tenants get burned alive?"

The smug look vanished. "I...I don't know."

Ashala cleared her throat. "I have a very good theory on that. If you would..."

"I told you Captain, I wanted to hear every word. Just as soon as I look over the crime scene."

Niveas continued to watch the numbers climb. _Spirits, this elevator is slow. Like time is moving slower._ Finally, the elevator reached the 71st floor. The moment the doors opened, the smell hit her nostrils. It was the smell of carbonized flesh and burnt cloth fibers. Niveas had looked into many potential arson cases in her career. More than a few of those cases had deaths involved. The smell that surrounded those incidents was unmistakeable.

Niveas stepped into the main living room, and immediately went into a deep sense of concentration. A human she had once spoken to back when she lived with her mother on the Citadel called it "the zone." Niveas was dimly aware that Captain Ashala was trying to speak to her, but the words were distant and muted. All that existed was herself and the room. And on she went, moving through the room in what anyone watching would see as a dream-like state. In actuality, she was taking the room in. Letting not just her sight, but all of her senses scan the room. She first went into the main living room, running her finger along the fabric of the large couch. She gazed down at the expensive carpet, noting the indentation where the couch had slightly moved. She noted the broken crystal glass that lay in shards on the floor. She moved on to the large desk that sat next to the window. Noted the holo terminal that was switched on, still in standby mode.

From there, Niveas moved on to the dining room, which was adjacent to the living room. She ran her finger along the imported Thessian hardwood table, noting that one of the dining chairs was missing. She moved on to the ornate liquor cabinet, running her finger along the labels. Niveas found that physically touching an object made it more real. More like it was physically part of the room.

She smelled the cha'sta tree before she laid eyes on it. It was a species native to Thessia, and was known for its unique scent and bright red leaves. It was like strong incense, heavily concentrated in one area. Niveas reached down and picked up a fallen red leaf. It was dried out, yet still had a strong odor. The leaf was one of several scattered at the base of the tree's planter.

From there, it was on to the kitchen. The smell of burned flesh grew stronger as she went. She noticed the marble counter, as well as the two wine bottles. They sat undisturbed, and running her finger along the unopened bottle, noted that the two bottles were free of dust. She finally stepped into the kitchen itself, hearing the scrape of her boots on the marble floor. And with that, found herself face to face with the corpse of Nashara Tashaeis. She was tied to the missing dining room chair, her form completely blackened by flames. The fibers of her clothing had partially melted into her flesh, giving the appearance of the body being wrapped in a liquid sheath. Her head was nearly burned down to the bone, mouth still open in a silent scream. Niveas knew the fire had occurred more than a full day ago, yet the scents were still strong. She detected another scent buried underneath the smell of burned flesh. A strong chemical smell. She knelt down, picking up one of the glass shards that lay scattered at the base of the chair. It wasn't broken crystal, like the living room. This was simple glass, with traces of a label on some of the shards. She then rose slightly to examine the manacles that held her to the chair. There was nothing fancy about them. No electronic lock, or magnetic seals. It was a simple mechanical system, a lock and key setup. She also took a moment to examine the corpse's hands. She noted the missing finger, and then allowed her entire walkthrough to correlate in her mind.

When she finally stood up, she went right for the living room. Captain Ashala was standing there, taking quietly to Sosstra. Niveas' turian hearing picked up on some of the words. Most of them were along the lines of _she looks like a crazy person._ They turned to look at her as Niveas stepped into the room.

"Captain Ashala, I am ready to hear your theory to the crime."

Ashala seemed surprised, but quickly regained her iron stare. "Of course, Commander. I believe the crime was an assassination for hire. I already have a very good idea who the person was that arranged the hit. Dask Kesserak."

"That sounds like a volus."

Ashala nodded. "It is. Dask Kesserak is a representative for the Protectorate's Trade Ministry. He has been involved in negotiations with Stellar Dynamics for several months. I have been told that they were multi-billion credit negotiations for a new fleet of heavy ore carriers. Nashara Tashaeis was the primary negotiator for Stellar Dynamics."

Niveas gave Ashala her complete attention. "Very well. Why do you suspect him?"

"Three days ago, Kesserak's office received a report indicating that the design specs sent from Stellar Dynamics were smaller than the contract originally called for. But it was an oversight so buried in paperwork that nobody noticed it until after the contract was signed. This is a potential loss of hundreds of millions to the Trade Ministry. Kesserak's reputation was in danger of being ruined. He ordered the hit as personal revenge, and as an attempt to stall the deal to get better terms. In that, he has succeeded. I have been informed the contract is on hold, due to Nashara Tashaeis' death. He is under constant surveillance, as well as being barred from leaving the planet. It's only a matter of time before we find enough to bring him into custody. Once that happens, I doubt it will be long before we have the name of the assassin."

Niveas bowed her head slightly toward Ashala. "That's a very sound theory."

The steely stare gave way to a smirk. "Well, thank you Commander. I do hope we can move this along and get you back to Palaven."

"It's completely wrong, though."

Ashala's eyes widened. "I'm sorry?"

"You're theory," Niveas said calmly. "It's completely wrong."

"Oh really?" Ashala's expression became one of utter contempt. "I know we're just poor colonial police. Would the great investigator from the big planet mind informing us why that is?"

Niveas' mandibles spread into a small smile. "First of all, legitimate volus businessmen don't hire assassins when a deal goes bad. They attack the livelihood and reputations of those involved. And somebody in the Protectorate trade ministry would be somebody who has a spotless reputation. It doesn't do for the man they send to negotiate huge deals to have a reputation as a ruthless corporate shark that kills those that try to cheat him."

Ashala scoffed. "That's hardly a conclusive reason to count Kesserack out as a suspect."

"By itself, that would be true. But there's much more. And I think our friend Sosstra here might be able to help us understand why."

Sosstra turned suddenly, surprised to hear her name called. "What do you mean?"

"How the killer entered has a lot to do with it. Tell me something. Do the apartments here have balconies?"

"No, none of the units do."

Niveas walked over to the large window that looked out onto Nos Astra. "What about the penthouse?"

Sosstra started, like she had suddenly remembered something. "Oh, yes. The penthouse has several balconies."

"I know. I saw them on the flight here." Niveas started pacing in front of the window. "You mentioned that all the elevators are carefully monitored. That only people with authorization can access them."

"Yes."

"What about when somebody decides to throw a party?" Niveas stopped pacing, standing next to the cha'sta tree next to the window. "What happens to the elevators then?"

"Well, in the event of a get together in one of the units, the elevators are switched to public access mode. In that case, total control is given to the security staff. Guests are allowed on board only after specially authorized invitations are confirmed. They then board the elevator, and the security desk sends the elevator to the correct floor."

Niveas continued gazing out the window. "Were there any public gatherings on the penthouse level in the last few days?"

Sosstra took out a datapad and started tapping into it. "Um...yes. The Synthetic Insights CEO held a naming ceremony for her great-granddaughter a week ago. She used it as a meeting for many other business associates. As I recall, it was a large guest list."

"Good. Thank you." Niveas turned around to face Ashala. "Tell me. Why do you think the killer set her on fire? That seems kind of a strange method of execution, doesn't it?"

Ashala smiled. "Simple. The killer improvised with whatever was to be found in the apartment. Our scanners would pick up a firearm before it was ever brought near the building."

"So, you think the killer took a bottle from her personal collection to use as an accelerant?"

Ashala crossed her arms. "You don't think so, Commander?"

"Have you actually looked at the liquor shelf? Nashara Tashaeis was an avid wine collector. But there isn't a single bottle of anything that could be used to start a fire. So there was no reason for there to be a bottle of grain spirits anywhere near this apartment. Yet, that was exactly what was used ignite the fire. If you get close enough, you can still smell it."

"I'm sure you can," Ashala growled. "Although, I'm starting to wonder about your own investigative skills."

Niveas tilted her head slightly. "Oh?"

"I'm talking about you going around touching everything in here. You could be contaminating vital evidence. Or did they not teach you that on Palaven?"

_She's trying to provoke me. How quaint. _"It was hardly a concern."

"How can the integrity of evidence not be a concern to you?"

"I listened very closely to when chief Sosstra told me about the building's security system. Anyone who is skilled enough to break in here would surely be competent enough to not leave physical evidence behind."

Ashala looked like she was about to say something, but her comm unit signaled her. "Yes, this is Captain Ashala. What? What do you mean somebody is on their way up here? Who the hell authorized this?"

Niveas raised her hand. "Oh, that would be me, Captain. I asked that the original designer of the building's security system to join us here."

"Larzza?" Sosstra's voice rose an octave. "You brought him here? Do you have any idea what he did the last time he was here?"

"I understand there was an altercation."

"An altercation? That damned lunatic physically threatened me! There is no way I will allow him back here..."

Her words were cut off as the elevator chimed its arrival. Apparently, Detective Layash had managed to keep the news of Larzza's arrival quiet until he was almost up the elevator. _I'll have to get her something nice when this is over_.

The doors opened, and the most grizzled salarian Niveas had ever seen stepped out. Larzza was only in his early twenties, but the scars across his face made him look like he was over fifty. He had a very impressive physique for a salarian, and carried himself like someone who knew how to kill. Niveas knew a former member of STG when she saw one.

Larzza looked around the room, taking in the sight of the three others around him. When he saw Sosstra, a wicked grin stretched across his scarred face.

"Tarraya Sosstra. I thought I smelled mediocrity. I understand you managed to get one of your tenants killed."

Sosstra turned to Ashala. "Captain, I must protest the presence of this salarian! He has a history of threats against this building and its employees."

Ashala responded immediately. "Commander, I cannot allow him to remain here. There are protocols that must be followed. That includes the presence of civilians in a crime scene. Now, if he doesn't leave at once, I will...what is this?"

Ashala stopped as Niveas activated her omnitool and transferred a file to the Captain's own omnitool. "Captain, I am sending you the contact information of Councilor Lisana's office. If you have any objections to my appointment here, you can contact her directly. Until then, shut your mouth." Niveas pointed at Sosstra. "If you would be so kind as to give Larzza your datapad. I want him to look at the events of the night in question."

Sosstra reluctantly handed over her datapad. Larzza took it with a look of obvious amusement. "What did I tell you, dear? My security plan is only effective if you implement all of it."

Before anyone could respond, Niveas decided to continue. "Captain, it is my opinion that the killer entered this apartment by rappelling down from the penthouse, gaining entrance from this window." Her claw tapped the window next to the cha'sta tree. "Does that sound plausible to you?"

Ashala snorted. "Ridiculous. It's almost twenty stories from the penthouse to this window. There's no way that somebody could pull that off."

That caused Larzza to laugh. "Oh, please! I could come up with over two dozen names of people right now that could do it. Francois Toulour, Nnarish Halat, Kasumi Goto, Gaspar Foucharde. Those are just thieves. I haven't even gotten started on assassins yet."

"Then if somebody of your talents could think of it, why didn't you include it in your security plan," Ashala asked, her voice thick with venom.

"Oh, but I did. My plan called for electronic sensors to be installed in the exterior windows that would set off an alarm if they were ever removed." Larzza took a sharp breath. "Unfortunately, the owners of the building decided that was unlikely, so they excluded it from the plan. As I recall, they used the money to instead put in that gaudy monstrosity of a fountain in the lobby."

Ashala looked at Sosstra, her face flushing violet with rage. It was obvious that no one had bothered to include this in any report. It was an oversight that made both the police and the building's owners look incompetent.

Sosstra tried to regain some of her composure. "How are you so sure it was the window?"

Niveas held up a withered red leaf from the cha'sta tree. "If you'll turn your attention to the tree, you'll notice that several of the leaves have come off. It is very hard to do that. Cha'sta trees are extremely durable, and it takes a lot of force to dislodge the leaves, unless the leaves are dead. As you can see, this tree is in excellent health. The leaves were blown off by the wind as it rushed through the window as it was opened."

The room went quiet as everyone looked for themselves. Sure enough, the tree limbs had been blown forward by a strong wind. Niveas continued. "There is something else in this room that doesn't make sense. Nashara Tashaeis was a skilled biotic, was she not?"

Larzza spoke up first. "Of course she was. You think a granddaughter of Councilor Lisana would be untrained?"

Niveas' world came to a screeching halt. She turned to the two asari, and the mortified look on their faces told her everything she needed to know. _Those futtari bitches! That certainly explains the secrecy behind this whole case. If I had known, that could have saved me a lot of trouble. I'll deal with __that later._

"How do you know that? If you don't mind me asking."

Larzza must have picked up on Niveas' anger, because his face lit up like a child getting a present on his birthday. "I did a complete background check of everyone living in the building. Helps to know who might want to take a shot at the tenants before designing a system to protect them."

Niveas resolved to make the the rest of her investigation as excruciating to Captain Ashala as possible.

"Well, for somebody that well trained as a biotic, I find the distinct lack of a struggle here. It would be difficult to sneak up on a biotic in her own home without being detected. Yet, nothing is really out of place. The sofa moved a little, most likely from her collapsing against it. I don't know if you've checked those two bottles of Ash Wine, but you might want to do that. If I had to guess, I'd imagine you would find something added to the wine. My first guess would be lia'mellea, or some derivative. Which leaves us with one more mystery. Chief Sosstra, who exactly found the body?"

"The maintenance tech. She came up in the service elevator to clean the apartment."

"I see." Niveas turned to Larzza. "Could you go through the security logs of that moment. See if anything jumps out at you."

Larzza tapped away on the pad, examining the data with the speed that only a salarian could manage. After a few seconds, his eyes crinkled in anger. "Sosstra, am I to assume that the sight of a burned body caused some amount of fear in the maintenance tech?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"I'll take that as a yes. It says here that she ran back into the elevator, activated the alarm, and took the service elevator back down, leaving the supply cart."

"Yes. So?"

Larzza tilted his head, studying Sosstra's body. "How much do you weigh? Fifty two kilos, give or take?"

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"So you can say that the maintenance tech weighed about the same. Fifty two kilos."

"Why..?"

Larrza angrily threw the datapad at her. "Then explain to me why the service elevator shows a total weight of one hundred and seventy kilos!"

Captain Ashala and Sosstra were finally rendered speechless. Niveas had to admit a certain warm feeling seeing those two bureaucrats with no snide comment or stupid excuse.

"Allow me to explain myself a bit more clearly. The full reason why your theory involving a volus revenge killing is wrong. The killer had to have a long time to set this up. First, he had gather enough information on the target to know she was actively seeking Ash Wine. He had to acquire the wine, add the lia'mellea to it, and ship it to Illium in such a way that it looked like it was sent through the TVA. Second, he had to come to Illium, obtain a false invitation to the naming ceremony on the penthouse, and somehow slip away without being seen. After that, he had to rappel down the side of the building, enter through the window, and wait for the target to get back. That means, the killer was in the apartment for almost five days before the killing took place. Now he knew the shipment of wine would be held by the security office, so he just had to wait for her to get home so she would order the shipment up herself. The killer then waits for her to drink the wine, letting the lia'mellea take effect. Depending on the dose, he would have plenty of time to tie her to the chair and move her into the kitchen, most likely to avoid having the fire spread. The marble floor was perfect to make sure the fire went no further than the victim. Now, I have to believe the bottle of spirits has some special meaning. It had to have been sent with the wine, so the killer obviously planned to burn her alive, using the special bottle he brought just for the occasion. Now, tying her to the chair indicates he wanted her alive for a while after she came to. Since her finger was cut off, I think the killer accessed the terminal on the desk, probably using the finger to get passed a fingerprint scanner. He then broke the bottle over her head, lit her up, and calmly waited for the cleaning crew to come in twelve hours later. Wearing a stealth generator, he simply got on the service elevator with the hysterical maintenance tech, and rode the elevator down to the lobby, and right out the front door. THAT, is why I believe your theory is wrong. From your report, the volus found out about the spec inconsistencies only two days before the murder. This killer most likely planned this for weeks."

At that moment, Niveas decided to leave the two asari speechless and dumbfounded. "I'll be writing my initial findings tonight. Tomorrow, I will be at your precinct house bright and early to brief your officers on the case as it stands. In the meantime, I would like to speak to Larrza a bit more. If you have the time?"

Larzza bowed his head in respect. "Of course, Commander. Always happy to help out a member of CID."

As Niveas and Larzza walked toward the main elevator, Larzza glanced back at Sosstra. She was the only one to catch his thin lips forming the words _kiss my cloaca_ as he headed for the exit.


End file.
